How many people have you hugged…can you guess? How many hugs will you give in a lifetime? Let’s say you give 10 hugs a month…that’s 120 hugs a year. Now, imagine you live until 80 years of age, that’s 9,600 hugs in a lifetime! Can you imagine hugging 10,000 people in one day? How about embracing people for 19 straight hours? How about hugging 26 million people worldwide by the time you are 50 years old? Does embracing people create peace and harmony in the world?

On September 21st I viewed the film “Darshan, The Embrace” about Amma, one of India’s most famous “Mahatmas” or spiritual guides. I went to see the film to honor and celebrate the UN International Day of Peace. I had recently watched the documentary, Peace One Day, about Jeremy Gilley’s passionate six-year journey to formally establish an annual day of global ceasefire and non-violence on the UN International Day of Peace, fixed in the global calendar on September 21 – Peace Day. Deeply touched by the Peace One Day project I decided to dedicate all of my activities on September 21st to peace.

I had already made plans that afternoon to take photographs for the upcoming amateur photo exhibit at the public library. When I decided to participate in the exhibition I had no idea what a powerful impact the photographs or the day would have on me.

As I strolled up and down Main Street I began to find peace in some surprising places. First, I greeted each passerby with an enthusiastic, “Happy Peace Day!” instead of my usual “Hello”. The responses were heartwarming, ranging from “You too!” “Thank you!”, “Happy Peace Day to You!” and “Amen, to that!”.

Then, I met an adorable “Peace Girl”.

I strolled by my local pet shop and found “National Peace” – above a doggie bed of all places! A few moments later the PG&E technician helped me find “Peace Uncovered” and when I turned the corner…I saw the one thing I wish we could all wake up to every day, “Peace in the News”. When I began to remove the PEACE signs a stranger requested, “No, leave them, I really like how it looks.” The next day, the signs were still there.

Amma is known internationally for her charitable donations, fight for peace, and work to end illiteracy. In 2002, she won the Gandhi King Prize for her work, joining a prestigious group of winners that include, Nelson Mandela and Khofi Annan. She is referred to as “The Hugging Saint” and travels India and the world joining people in prayer, feeding the poor, and offering a blessing or darshan and an embrace.

As many of you know, I rarely talk about films except to say, “You need to see this movie.” I’m addicted to film because I love to be surprised. I love to soak in the messages and get inspired. I love to disappear into a great story. I don’t want to give away plot and take away from a viewer’s experience. I will, however, share a quote from Amma’s website, which is her formula for a better tomorrow:

“Children, do not complain about the darkness around you. Light the lamp of your heart with 
the flames of love and faith. You may wonder how this will dispel the darkness. As you move forward this flame will light each step on your path.”

One Day. One Embrace. One Photo. One Person…Does Make a difference.

Light the lamp of your heart.

Late at night, when the neighborhood is quiet, I can often hear the sound of a train whistle in the distance. It’s a deep, steady sound and it always brings me comfort.

In middle school I tucked my long brown hair into a blue and white striped engineer’s hat every day — it was a gift from my dad, the Lionel train collector. I wasn’t very interested in electric toy trains back then but I loved the hat. And I loved my daddy more.

Dad constructed long wooden tables in the basement and would conduct from behind the bulky black Lionel ZW power controller. I’d watch as he’d glide the levers forward and back sending the trains round and round on miles of track. Dad also customized lovely shelves and displayed his favorite trains for all to enjoy. I liked looking at the windows of the trains where you could see the black shadows of tiny people. I would make up stories about the tiny people and their grand destinations. I’ll never forget the smell of that musty basement…my daydreams rising with each realistic puff of white smoke. I wondered, did my dad do the same thing?

Nadia’s little son, Cole, pointed and bounced up and down with excitement as the Little Steam Train pulled up to the station in Tilden Park. I did too! We climbed aboard the tiny car and watched the white steam rise from the locomotive’s chimney. “Just like your tea kettle at home” the conductor explained with a smile as we handed over our tickets. Click. Click. Cole looked through the circle in his newly punched ticket. Then the bell clanged and the train slowly chugged forward. Cole’s eyes widened as we picked up speed and edged our way through the beautiful countryside. Light streamed through the tall trees and we tilted our heads way back to take it all in. The two short tunnels added to the excitement — we screamed in the sudden burst of darkness and listened to our voices echo and twist together. As the train hugged the corners we enjoyed spectacular views of the Bay and pointed out patches of vibrant purple and red wildflowers along the track. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the cool breeze. I simulated choo-choo sounds in my head and danced in between the moment and memories of the musty basement. The ride ended too quickly.

Next time I will wear my engineer’s hat…and bring my father.

P.S. “Life is train travel – not all passage and carriage. It is single scenes, one at a time, out the window. Laundry hanging on a line. A warehouse. The river’s shore. Each sight out the window has hundreds of stories behind it. And hundreds of stories before those hundreds of stories began. The rose, made of sugar, on the icing, on the cake.” – From Notes on the Kitchen Table by Bob Greene & D.G. Fulford

My ode to Magritte.

They make us laugh until we cry. Or just cry. They have spirit. They take us somewhere special…

An American In Paris
Auntie Mame
Broken Flowers
Bug
Chocolat
The Chorus
City of Lost Children
Clueless
The Dish
Everything is Illuminated
Fairy Tale: A True Story
Gigi
In America
Laughing Club of India (on Full Frame Documentary Series)
Genghis Blues
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner
Matchstick Men
Millions
Monsieur Ibraham
The New Heroes (four-hour series hosted by Robert Redford)
Roman Holiday
Saint Ralph
Sexy Beast
The Station Agent
Turtles Can Fly
Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Wererabbit

The items in bold from the Random Acts of Kindness list have been accomplished:

• Pay bridge tolls for car behind you
• Buy someone a free coffee
• Give candy to strangers
• Hold the door open for someone
• Compliment someone on their attire
• Help carry groceries
• Get rid of spare change – Feed a meter
• Give money to homeless person
• Give food to homeless
• Start conversation with homeless person
• Let someone cut in line
• Offer to carry someone’s bag at airport
• Give movie ticket to a stranger
• Donate clothes
• Make a donation in someone’s name
• Mow someone’s lawn
• Prune rose bush – check first with owner
• Bring newspaper up the steps to someone’s porch
• Give someone time by doing something – offer time
• Pick up a friend’s dry cleaning
• Make something for somebody – a poem
• Write someone his or her own personal theme music

When someone came up with “Make a Donation in Someone’s Name” I never imagined it would mean donating money to a memorial fund. A co-worker’s son, Britt, died in a motorcycle accident. I attended his funeral.

Three weeks ago, my mother attended two funerals – one for our dear friend Janie’s mother, and then the funeral for the father of our dear friend, Suellyn. Last week, Suellyn’s husband, Ted, also passed away. Two of my mother’s closest friends are extremely ill. My father’s best friend since kindergarten has been the hospital for months fighting for his life. Last weekend there was an email letting us know that my best friend’s grandmother had fallen seriously ill and her family was rushing to be by her side. The email stated, “Please keep our family in your prayers.” Her grandmother passed away.

“Please keep our family in your prayers.” I kept thinking about that sentence as I watched the sun rise outside our bedroom window and again, at night, as I watched the fog dance over the hills and hug the moon. “Please keep our family in your prayers.”

Life is random. I’ll keep praying…and finish the list.

Last night Gunnar treated us to dessert at a lovely restaurant. I was anticipating a reliable standard…some delicious ice cream, a piece of apple pie or, perhaps, a slice of chocolate cake. One of these would have been perfectly fine but Gunnar had his eye on something different.

The waiter placed a thick rectangular slab of marble on the table – it was warm to the touch. On the marble platter were the following ingredients: candied walnuts, toasted almonds, sliced apple, poached figs, walnut levain and a triangle of Cravanzina, a creamy cow and sheep milk cheese from Piemonte.

Piemonte is a region of northwestern Italy – the capital is Turin. Piemonte is surrounded on three sides by the Alps mountain range, including the Monviso, where the Po River rises, and Monte Rosa. It borders with France, Switzerland, and the Italian regions of Lombardy, Liguria, Emilia-Romagna, and the Aosta Valley. Thanks Wikipedia! We need to go to Piemonte.

You may be thinking, what’s the big deal? She just described a bunch of fruits and nuts sitting next to some bread and cheese on a weird heated serving dish. We can eat nuts and fruit at home. Heck, she’s a vegetarian, she does it all the time anyway.

Each thin apple slice was carved in the shape of a tulip leaf and fanned out, standing upright, on the right corner of the grey marble. I still can’t figure out how the apple slices didn’t fall over in transit. In front of the apples were the poached figs, sliced in small flat ovals, their seeds glistening in a blanket of sweet liquor. The ovals formed a diamond shape and sat in a thin pool of deep purple. Sprinkled around and on top of the figs were the almonds, so perfectly toasted that they broke in half when just kissed by the tip of the tongue. On the left side of the platter was a small pyramid of walnuts coated with a slight dusting of cinnamon, sugar and butter, served cool, and feather light to the touch. The walnut levain held court in the top left corner, the slices were paper thin, yet hearty in flavor, and served warm. Just warm enough to inspire the Cravanzina, it’s triangular neighbor, to melt ever so slightly onto the bread.

The combinations! Cravanzina on a slice of apple topped with a bit of fig! Cravanzina on levain with a slice of apple! Nibble on an almond after it floats in the purple elixir. Place a spoonful of chocolate pudding into your mouth and follow it with a candied walnut. Wait! I didn’t mention the decadent chocolate pudding with chocolate-infused whipped cream? The frothy concoction housed in a dainty glass arrived just moments after the fromage platter.

I’d like to deliver our dessert to everyone in the world tonight. I imagine they would breathe in the aromas and it would calm them down. I imagine they would taste the sweetness and it would make them smile. I imagine they would finish it, every nut and slice and crumb, and feel content, satisfied, safe, and at peace.

Thank you Gunnar for reminding me to savor the simple things. The proof…is in the pudding!

As of 1:50am, my Swirl Soup recipe looks like this:

Prep:
Trim the worry about the future, discard the frayed ends and worn tips, season with the most compassionate act you can do for anyone. “Stand by the truth of your own life and live it as fully and passionately as you are able*.”

Continue to make weekly visits to the library, take long daily walks, practice reduction of negative thinking, and continue to write gratitude and daily journals.

Set the table.

Steps:

1. Welcome houseguests from Germany. Our kind friends, Nandini and Thomas brought laughter, joy, and healing into our home and we are so grateful.
2. Open the lid and my heart to celestial guardians, memorize and actualize their triumphant message. Begin a daily conversation with my angels. Simmer.
3. Mix in one retreat by the lake with my exquisite boyfriend, enjoy the breathtaking natural beauty of Maine, and revel in the silence.
4. Add an eventful weekend trip to New York City, melt over high heat (what a heat wave!) and cool down in the airplane ride home.
5. Add a cup of supportive friends, stirring in conversations about everything under the sun; add a pinch of quality talk time with family members until tender.
6. Separate old beliefs and new beliefs, scrub them and gradually dice each one. All human beings are eternal spiritual beings…we exist before we enter this physical shell and continue when we die. It is marvelous to consider this: “everything that happens in life has its own unique and proper place, both in the ecology of a single life and in the pattern, the web, of the human race as a whole…This is a lofty and difficult conclusion to come to, and yet it brings with it a huge sigh of relief. After all, if this is so, it means that, in the end, everything – everything, is all right…all shall be well.” Add peace and healing energy into the pan (and out into the world). Cook gently, slowly, to soften.
7. Attend Britt Daniel’s funeral and listen to the comforting bells during the service. Send healing energy to his family and friends. Find support in the belief that we are eternal.
8. Practice listening skills and simmer gently uncovered while enjoying the 8/4/06 pod cast of Bill Moyers and Pema Chodron’s interview on Faith and Reason, stir occasionally.
9. Ask more questions about right livelihood…don’t expect answers. Sign up for “Positive Psychology in the Workplace” course and begin new job search. Do not boil.

Add seasoning to taste:
“Kabir tells us to jump, to break the ropes, to plunge into the truth. This is all you can do when you have come to the end of your rope, to the end of your strategies, and don’t know what else to do. It is a surrender, a falling in, not an act or initiative, but a willing acquiescence to what is so and has always been so.”*

Nutritional Fact:
What is so and has always been so?

The reason I live is to love.

Serve at once.

*from Roger Housden’s Ten Poems to Change Your Life on loan from my dear friend, Victoria. Thank you Vicki!!!

I came home to Jesus. Literally. He was waiting on our welcome mat.

I’d like to thank the Mormons for the lovely card. It would have been nice to have met the kind souls who dropped it off. I would have definitely shared my July 11th Dog Spelled Backwards post with them and, of course, I would have inquired about the afghan hound situation. Since writing that post I’ve noticed many “Dog is my co-pilot” bumper stickers. Its got me thinking about dogs and enlightenment…but I’ll leave that for another time.

I’m going to take a few minutes to reflect and celebrate a most lovely trip back East. It was my first venture to Maine and I was also able to don my New York City tour guide hat for a few days, which I truly enjoyed. It was a blast to show Gunnar “my New York” and yes, the tour completely revolved around food. Pizza. Check. Chinese Food. Check. Zen Palate. Check. Carnegie Deli. Check. Bagels. Check. Check. Check Please!

Now, we can celebrate all that is Maine for hours. The glorious white pine trees. The pristine lakes. The mountains. The state animal, the moose (the only one I saw was on the relative’s dinner plate). The state insect, the honeybee (she was a BIG bee). The state bird, the chickadee (not one sighting but I did overhear a fella at the gas station say, “Check out that hot chick.”) The state berry, the wild blueberry (I picked them!) and the state soil, from the Chesuncook soil series (which is still stuck in the treads of my New Balance – was it legal to cross state lines?).

Yes, Maine’s natural beauty is most memorable but so are the signs dotted along the highway which advertise, “Maine. Worth a Visit. Worth a Lifetime.” Let me repeat, “Maine. Worth a Visit. Worth a Lifetime.” Hmmm, do I want to visit Maine or die in Maine?

Actually, I can’t wait to visit again. Maine unwrapped so many gifts (to name just a few) — kayaking with Gunnar, looking out the window in the early morning light and seeing the pink and purple cloud-filled sky perfectly reflected in the calm lake, a lazy afternoon swinging in the hammock, an afternoon hike with his sister at Wilhelm Reich’s Orgonon, an exhilarating boat ride with Gunnar’s brother-in-law and nephews, reading on the porch and taking breaks to watch the loons, and many delicious meals served with silly stories and lots of laughter.

But the one gift that I will never forget was…the silence.

One night as we were walking by the lake we stopped talking and heard…nothing. Not a fish jumping, not a cricket chirping, not a loon singing. The wind was completely still. After awhile I heard a soft whirring sound and recognized it as the blood moving in my veins…or was it the sound of the stars vibrating in my ears? That night as I melted into bed, completely relaxed, I thought about that sound…my energy, a force. Life energy, its eternal power. I thought about it again on the flight home, and last night as I enjoyed the comfort of our own bed.

I imagine I’ll visit the memory often…it’s worth a lifetime!

Chapter I
It was in a deep corner of the library far removed from the check-out and information tables. In fact, there were no chairs and tables — there weren’t even bookcases. Instead, the young adult science fiction section consisted of three book carousels filled with paperbacks. I’d seen Hallmark cards on displays like this but never books. It was a poorly lit area, the only light entering from a small square window high up in the ceiling. It was as if someone had pushed these books in a corner and forgot about them. Like any ten year old the first thing I did was take the books for a fast spin…only a few fell off. I looked around. I didn’t get caught. I then practiced pushing the books around as slowly as possible. My fingers became covered in dust. Pictures of UFOs, aliens and planets jumped off their covers and captured my attention. I read the titles, The Martin Chronicles, The Time Machine, A Wrinkle in Time and Under Plum Lake, and my heart started to race.

Under Plum Lake by David Line. A young boy is ushered into a subterranean world where he encounters a civilization and kingdom unlike anything above ground.

That’s all I will say about the plot. It’s not a book I want to talk about – it’s a book for you to read. It was the first book that completed transported me out of reality. It was the first time I realized the power of my own imagination and that I could see pictures in my mind. It was the first time I realized that people had stories to share about places I didn’t know existed. And I was a willing traveler. Read the rest of this entry »

On my drive home from the post office a dog showed me that I have mastered the art of being patient, the art of appreciating beauty, and that I can face my fears.

As I approached a stop sign I noticed that a dog was up ahead. She was smelling something in the middle of the street. She was a beautiful black afghan hound and completely unaware that she was in danger. I recognized the breed because I was once mesmerized by an afghan hound while watching The Westminster Dog Show on television. When you see an afghan hound you don’t know if you should be in awe or laugh really hard. I’ll leave that up to you:

I sat at the intersection. Luckily no cars were coming. The dog continued to stand in the middle of the street. She was transfixed. I stuck my head out the window to get a better look – what was she smelling? The street…she was smelling the street. I looked at her shiney long coat and noticed her short curly tail. I thought a dog that size would have a bigger tail. Why did she even need a tail like that? Then I noticed she had on a collar and tags. I would pull over and call her owner.

I’m not a fan of dogs these days…especially big dogs that I’ve never met before. I was in a pitbull attack a few years ago and no longer trust dogs. However, I didn’t want her to get hurt. I had to find her owner.

Also, she finally looked up and we made eye contact. She looked serene. In fact, she reminded me of Jesus. I’ll leave that up to you:

Five minutes passed before the dog slowly walked over to the sidewalk. I pulled the car over and walked to her. I took a deep breath and was ready to introduce myself…but I didn’t get a chance. She looked at me for a moment and then headed up the porch steps to the closest house. She barked and a few moments later the front door opened.

When I pulled up to the stop sign my first instinct was to honk at the dog…but I didn’t. Instead I gave her the right of way. Of course, I was concerned that she was in the middle of the street but it wasn’t busy, and I would have stopped anyone from harming her. So, I didn’t rush the situation. In fact, I just appreciated the situation I unexpectedly found myself in. She was a magnificent creature and I really admired her beauty. I liked that she was lost in the moment…caught in the story of a scent.

A dog trainer once explained to me that odor remains on things for a certain amount of time, and for a dog, having a chance to smell them is similar to watching a movie of all of the things that could have happened in that place in the past. He stated that dog owners often get angry at their dogs for stopping to smell things, but it is truly the best way dogs have to discover the world around them; it’s similar to the way individuals use their sense of sight to figure out what’s going on. I’m glad this dog helped me discover who I am today. And I hope she liked the movie.