I came across this beautiful story on Facebook this past Thursday. It was written by a member of a band called The Lone Bellow. To me, it expresses so much of what life is about. How do we respond when our future unfolds so differently than anything we had hoped or planned it would be? How can we remain hopeful, open, and loving, when the obstacles we are faced with are so large? How can we become more compassionate to one another? And how do we access our inner strength and resiliency to not only meet and rise above the challenges we are faced with, but to create something beautiful and meaningful out of some very dark places.

………….

“Zach here.. Today I celebrate a very special moment that happened in my life.

Ten years ago, my wife fell from one of my family’s horses and tragically broke her neck.

I remember running out into a deathly quiet field after the horse silently came back with no rider. I remember running with my best friend by my side looking for her. We found her and time stood still. The following month was spent in hospitals, preparing for a very different kind of life than what we had pictured. An amazing place in Atlanta GA called “The Shepherd Center” took us in. We had been told that my wife would no longer be able to move anything below her neck.

Living in this reality, I had the great privilege of meeting other spouses who had been taking care of their loved ones for years. The bravery in their words were powerful enough to alter any definitions I had in my mind of the human condition. They we’re filled with hope, passion, beauty, fear, and wisdom. A few days a week, the hospital would bring in dogs who had been trained to comfort people who grieved beyond words. The nurses had a supernatural ability to speak hope and truth into the most hopeless situations. I remember the sounds of these conversations shooting through the walls of the hall my wife called home. We had come to the conclusion that it would take nothing short of a miracle to heal my wife’s spinal cord.

She was incredible. Her zeal to be alive shook me to the core. There were moments when I had given up. I went through the different phases of grief over and over again. I would get angry, sad, delusional, then hopeless. This is where I started writing music. This where I had some good friends say to me “If she gets better, let’s sell whatever we have and move to New York City.” Shortly thereafter my wife started getting the feeling back in her hands. Soon after that she was able to stand up. This was beyond the understanding of the doctors, but I do not see this as the miracle.

The miracle I was able to witness was watching the loved ones, nurses, and patients love one another and see a beauty that only they have the honor of truly understanding. Today I pause to say thank you to our friends, family, and the amazing souls at The Shepherd Center. You are a light in a dark place. I am grateful.

I had the opportunity tonight to tell our three little girls the bedtime story of their brave mother and all of the beautiful and strong people we met at The Shepherd Center—tonight we celebrate the power and grace of the human being.”

The day after Labor day was one that was filled with stress for me. Over the course of the past few months, I managed to schedule 8 library talks for the month of September (the culmination of 8 months worth of work: four months to make my slideshow and then compose my talk, and four months of slowly building up courage, writing a proposal, looking up contact information, and sending (and re-sending) my letter out to 109 libraries, two Appalachian Mountain Club locations, and 6 high schools and colleges). I was lucky that the projectors at the five places I have presented at so far have have an HDMI connection. However, seven of my eight upcoming talks only have a VGA connection. I have been EXTREMELY worried about this because of my experience at the library in July in which I could not get my iMovie slideshow to play due to a resolution error with this type of connection. In the past few weeks, I have spent countless hours communicating with various library directors, trustees, and IT departments, as well as visiting Best Buy and Apple stores. On Monday, it seemed as though I was going to have to buy my own projector, which would be a huge expense for me, as well as a lot of time researching models and hoping it would arrive before Tuesday!
I also just discovered that I did not receive dental or vision benefits when I applied for MassHealth insurance earlier this year, and with a dentist appointment scheduled on Tuesday and the need for more contacts around the corner, I knew I was going to have to find several hours to start the application process with them again. I also had to drive all the way to Cambridge only to have no one show up for the class I was scheduled to teach yet again, which never makes me feel good. And in general, I am still feeling stress about how I will be able to make a living during these upcoming months.
Although I have finally managed to work my way up from teaching one yoga class a week for the past couple of years to five beginning in June and now 7 in September, in combination with my eight presentations this month, I still need to make 2-2.5 times more income per month in order to cover my basic living expenses, pay taxes, have a couple of dollars of spending money, and then finally begin to save a few.

I was happy that by the evening, I had managed to subdue my stressful feelings and feel thankful for the challenge in front of me- because really, that is all that it is- a challenge. This summer, I learned that there are many people in the town I live that have never had to work a day in their lives because of the money they inherited from their families. This fact astounds me. It is something that I can’t even fathom. I wondered for a moment what I would do if my life was like that and I quickly became grateful for the challenges and opportunities to grow that I have been faced with in not having this kind of security. I am starting to learn and remind myself that there is no limit to what I can offer and that the harder I work and the more confidence that I build within myself, the more I will receive back.

Late that night, my friend Amanda posted the following on Facebook:

“I cry at the illusion of it all to awaken to the preciousness of each moment .

I was meditating tonight after a particularly challenging end to the day. With my husband pursuing his business and our savings dwindling, we are faced with tough choices. I was allowing all my feelings to bubble and one that was coming out strongly was rage. I meditated on this and saw coming into my vision the tiniest particles we as humans are made up of. Protons, neutrons, etc These particles I understood are the same particles that make up the trees, the air, the stars the universe – this great expanse called life. I felt rage around the understanding of how all we hold onto is an illusion. All our masks, our judgment, differentiation of this and that. I felt how similar and yes insignificant we all are yet at the same time how brilliant that makes all of us. I cried at the pain of so many humans mistaking their brilliance.”

I almost couldn’t believe how parallel her expression was to my day and its ending! It is so important to keep reminding ourselves not to close in around fear. The more we can remain soft, open, and trusting, the more we can allow into our lives. Her meditation experience reminded me of the one time that I sat in meditation in my living room for an hour a couple of years ago. It was the first and only time that I have sat that long. Whenever my legs began to fall asleep or become painful, I would remind myself that it was only temporary and that I could sit through it. My mind kept wanting to attach to particular thoughts, but I would keep gently reminding myself to return to the focus on my breath each time I noticed that happening. After 45-50 minutes, something changed. It was like a thick, dark velvet curtain was drawn over the front of my brain, after which, whenever my thoughts tried to wander, they were immediately stopped. I COULDN’T think about anything! If my mind tried, it received a message that was similar to- “Wendy, your little problems don’t matter.” Instead, I felt part of an incredible vastness. It was a very peaceful, very connected to the entire expanse of the universe feeling.

It’s a process to remember to take a step back whenever we are feeling stress. We often bring more suffering to ourselves than is necessary. Because what will happen in the future can not be known, most of the energy spent worrying about how things will play out is really just wasted energy. When we bring our awareness back to our breath, back to the present moment, and understand that everything in life contains a mixture of good and bad, we can return to a calmer, more peaceful state very quickly.

All summer long, I knew that, at the very least, I would get one long hiking weekend up in the White Mountains, as I had scheduled a talk at Pinkham Notch on Saturday, August 23rd. I had planned on driving up to the White Mountains after teaching my yoga class in Cambridge on Thursday afternoon, staying with some friends from the PCT for a couple of nights, getting in a few hikes, hopefully learning some navigational skills, and then giving my talk on Saturday evening at Pinkham Notch. I really hoped to have some of my friends join me for some hiking time after a year of trying, but I once again had to adjust my hopes and try to stay open to yet another solo experience. That Monday afternoon, one of the librarians called me to ask if I would come to their bookclub on Thursday night to discuss “Wild.” I wished that she had asked me earlier as I like to plan my schedule ahead of time, and this short notice didn’t give me enough time to re-read the book before then. I was also still quite sick, in the depths of my cold, at the time. After thinking over my options, I decided to go to the meeting. Since Friday was supposed to be a rainy day, I figured that another day of rest wouldn’t hurt. I cut my one summer trip down to 2 days. At least I could squeeze in a climb up Mt. Washington and do a loop on Franconia Ridge- my two favorite hikes in the White Mountains.
However, after eating my usual breakfast early Saturday morning, I was suddenly and surprisingly gripped by extremely intense intestinal pain! While taking a couple of courses of 200 billion probiotics, my stomach pain finally began to lessen, but after returning to the 80 billion strength, it started coming back. On this day, it was as worse as it could be. I didn’t even know if I could drive! I hoped it would dissipate over the next three hours, but when I arrived at Pinkham notch to a completely full parking lot, the pain had not subsided at all. I waited until someone pulled out of their space and then slowly walked into the visitor center with my hand over my belly to find out if my room was available. In exchange for my presentation, they gave me a night’s stay with breakfast and dinner. I was told to go over to Joe Dodge Lodge and ask there. I could barely move due to the intensity of the pain. The woman at the lodge said that it was too early for my room to be ready. Maybe I would have to lie down in my car or on the lawn. All I knew was that I needed some place to lie down immediately. Then, she looked up my room and said that maybe it was ready after all. It was in another building, which she drew a map to. “If the room isn’t clean, just leave your luggage in there.” When I reached the room with the two tiny twin beds, I decided that it was clean enough and immediately got under the covers of one of the beds. It was so cold in there! I wondered why there weren’t any towels, but figured I could ask for some at Joe Dodge Lodge. At some point, I noticed a pillowcase sack with something inside it on the other bed. Maybe my towels were in there!
At 1:00, I decided that I should get up and at least go outside and be in the sun like a normal person. I could continue reading my book and then go over my talk. I got up and looked inside the pillowcase. Used towels were inside! I peeled back the comforter on the opposite bed and realized the room had not been cleaned yet! While I was using the bathroom down the hall, two girls came to my room to start preparing it! I was so glad that I had gotten up when I did! I walked out to my car, ate a snack, and then took my rain jacket and bottle of water and headed across the street. I knew there were a couple of short walks on that side of the notch and I decided that I could check out the Appalachian Trail as it headed toward the Wildcats and see what memories came back. I quickly regretted not bringing my poles with me. What was I thinking? Every step of the AT is uneven surface, requiring a lot of dexterity and balance. It’s also a very muddy trail! The moist forest was a great contrast to the PCT! I took in the smells and feeling of the forest and then paused in front of the Square Ledge sign, wondering if I should head up there or continue walking toward Lost Pond. I decided I would hike up to the ledge after re-visiting the AT. Along the way, I practiced my talk. Memories of my Appalachian Trail hike did not resurface as I walked the path, but I did remember the time that Erik and I walked to Lost Pond the day after climbing Mt. Washington one year. Our legs were too sore to attempt another big mountain the following day. I remember sitting on a rock in the pond, looking at the beaver dam and feeling that If I just came out and sat quietly in nature like I was doing then, I would feel like writing. I continued past the pond until the trail became too tough to maneuver without poles. The AT is difficult! I have never had a desire to hike that trail again.
I saw a squirrel nibbling on an acorn and sat against a rock, enjoying its company for the time it remained there. I miss having animal companions. Once I reached the Square Ledge junction again, I turned up its path. Mosquitoes bit my legs as I ascended. Then, suddenly, in front of me, I saw a man couching down, facing me, with something pointing at me from his chest. Something was happening, but I couldn’t register what. He stayed in the same position, aiming the large object straight at me. I thought it was a gun he was pointing and although I couldn’t understand why, I thought he might be about to shoot me. Then, I realized it was a large camera, and he was facing me without moving to alert me to the presence of an animal nearby. I held still and looked into the trees, not knowing what was over there. A bear, maybe? It took me at least a minute to see that it was a moose, casually chewing on the leaves of the trees! A smile came over my face and the man, his girlfriend and I exchanged silent expressions of awe. When they started moving to get a better view, I moved too. I wasn’t able to get a picture of it with my little camera, due to the tree coverage, but it was nice to be in its presence for awhile. “Amazing!” the man said as he passed me. I discovered that this couple was from Germany. The woman was very pretty, smelled really nice, and wore a fashionable scarf bunched up around her neck. I wondered why I never looked like that! We continued to whisper after the moose had turned back into the woods and then parted ways. Once on top of the ledge, I reflected on the extraordinary timing of the day’s events so far. Had I been feeling okay, I would have been climbing up Mt. Washington at that point. Had I not chosen to get up from my nap when I did, I would have both startled and been startled by the cleaning girls! What if I decided to climb up to Square Ledge before I walked to the pond? I probably would not have seen the moose! It was all so fascinating.

Dinner was a very lonesome affair for me. I couldn’t even make proper use of the buffet because of the way my stomach was feeling. I decided to head back to my room and read for a bit before returning to set up for my talk. One girl told me to be there around 7:30, but at 7:40, another one said to come back in 10 or 15 minutes… About a month ago, I had asked if they had the connecting cord I needed and was told yes. Now, the girl said, “Hopefully we have it…”. There wasn’t much concern about how or what I was about to present.
After a lot of trial, the connections were finally made, although the cord wasn’t long enough for me to have my laptop near the screen. It had to sit on top of the projector and I would have to keep walking back and forth to advance the images for the talk portion of my presentation. It was scheduled for 8:00, but no one had come into the dining room by then. When the first man arrived, I said, “My audience!”. Gradually, several more people trickled in. It was the first time that I was not introduced in any capacity. I explained that I would have to keep walking back to the laptop to advance the slides. I had to compete with the loud clanging of clean-up in the kitchen while I talked, and I realized that this was not a good environment for my presentation, as it is more of a formal one than the ones usually held here and one that requires the full attention of the audience. One thing that did strike me as my slideshow was playing, was that the scenery of the west coast greatly contrasted and stood out against the scenery of the Appalachian Mountains- something not apparent in a library setting. Several of the kitchen workers came out to watch at various intervals. One woman stood by me, staring at the screen. “Did you do all of this yourself?”.
“Yes.”
“Where is that?”
“That’s Yosemite!”
“What’s your name?” “Have you written a book?”.
“Not yet. But I will,” I said assuredly.

One man had to leave about 1/2 through the slideshow to check on his daughter. He rubbed my back on his way out and thanked me for sharing my story.
Another man came up to me afterwards and said that, coincidentally, he was on his way to Yosemite the next day and showed me a piece of paper in a ziplock bag. It was his PCT permit from his 1981 thru-hike! He said that he was interested in seeing how it had changed since then. He asked what I am doing now and when I said I wanted to build my own life, he said he could tell. “I can see that you’ve been through a lot,” he said, rubbing my arm.

I returned to my room and finished my second reading of “Wild”. After having hiked the trail, myself, in between my first and second readings, having learned a lot more about Cheryl Strayed in the meantime, as well as about life itself, my experience of reading the book was different this time around. A couple of passages really struck me. Many of my life experiences are quite similar to hers.

The following morning, I slept in a bit later than I had planned on, ate another lonely breakfast, packed up my things, returned my room key, and started up Tuckerman’s Ravine at 9:12. I was carrying about 13 pounds on my back with just extra clothing, water, and snacks. Since I hadn’t hiked in nearly a year, had been sick and just resting for the past two weeks, and thinking that all traces of competitive feelings had been removed from me, I just steadily walked. I hoped that I could make it to the top in three or even three and a half hours and didn’t try to race in any form. Steadily, I began passing each group of people, one by one. At one point, there were three guys behind me (one with a bear bell) that weren’t dropping behind. I continued to press on and soon enough, they fell back. I passed another man who was profusely sweating. “Is this almost over?” he asked. I told him that we would reach a nice break spot soon. His companion, who was obviously overweight and out of shape, raced ahead of me, jogging up the rocks with a smile on his face. I wanted to suggest that it might be wise to conserve his energy… He still had a long way to go. But I kept my thoughts to myself. It amused me to see former spots that Erik and I had taken breaks at in earlier years (or saw other people resting at) because it seemed so early on in the hike! I also realized that not everyone has the capability of climbing this mountain. “Have I gone as far as I went last year?” an older man asked his companion. I reached Hermit Lake in just over one hour, took off my pack to finally put my hair up, and adjusted my pack that had been chafing my back. Then, I continued on.
There was one group of younger people who I let pass me as I climbed beside the melted snow. We overlapped a couple of times. At the base of the cone, they all stopped to take a snack break at the base of the cone, but I did not need a break. (Aha!) And so I kept climbing. A mass of people was spread out in all directions, unable to find the path to the summit. I remembered that in earlier years, I was so out of shape, that I had to crawl up these rocks like a beetle! This time was the easiest of all for me. Just before the top, my shin hit a rock and bruised. Only the wooden steps remained and a big smile spread across my face. My legs felt heavy going up them, but I did not feel tired. I looked at my watch outside of the visitor’s center. I had reached the top in 2 hours and 35 minutes! And I wasn’t even trying! At my oldest age, my body seems to be in the best shape of my life! And I don’t do cardio exercise anymore!
Inside, I perused the snack bar and decided on a hot chocolate and chocolate chop cookies. I headed towards a table by the windows and spotted a man in a kilt. I found the thru-hikers! My people! I headed over to them and drew in their scent for a breath, which was just as familiar and attractive to me as the flowery, clean scent of the German tourist! I sat and watched them when they sat back down at their table. They looked tired and zoned out. One of them was entertaining himself (and me) by flipping his water bottle into the air and catching it on his forearm. I was fascinated and amused. Thru-hiker self entertainment! And then, they were off- to who knows where!

As I ate my cookies, another couple asked if they could join me. The young man looked very tired and said he was so happy to sit for awhile. His shoulders slumped forward as he opened his tupperware container of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I remembered what it felt like to be tired like that after the climb, but on this day, I felt perfectly fine! I headed outside to take a few pictures on this beautifully clear day (those thru-hikers lucked out!) and even witnessed the moments just after a marriage proposal. The wheel of life keeps on turning.

An hour and a half after I arrived, I headed down. As I looked below me, I saw a mass of people on their way up! I veered off at the Lion’s Head turn-off, avoiding the majority of people ascending and descending Tuckerman’s, but a number of people took this path, as well. I realized that I probably seem a bit competitive when climbing this particular mountain because it is SO crowded and I desperately crave my own space. Steadily, I made my way down the mountain. I am still so slow and unsure while descending, but I realized that I am very consistent. Towards the bottom of the mountain, a younger couple who had been in my vicinity a lot acknowledged me for the first time while taking a water break. “You keep a strong pace!” the young man said.
“Me?”
“Yes!” the woman said. “We were impressed with your pace going up.”
I told them that we all essentially hiked the same pace and they seemed to like that. Three hours and 15 minutes later, I reached the bottom, threw my things into my car, changed into my sandals, headed to town for a solo dinner, and then drove the 3 hours home.

I gave my fourth library talk on July 15 and in the following couple of weeks, the most amazing “accidental” encounters occurred! It seemed like nearly every time I stepped outside, I ran into someone that recognized me from my talks and wanted to chat, or potentially wanted me to teach them yoga! I almost couldn’t believe it! It felt like the universe was opening up to me for the first time ever! Two days after my talk, I walked by my neighbors and new friend’s house (the woman who I sometimes walk to the beach with and who I invited to my talk). They left before I had a chance to chat with them afterwards and I was hoping to get their opinion. With great luck, they were standing outside of their house, talking to their neighbor, when I walked by. Charlie greeted me and after he was finished talking to the neighbor, he said, “Your talk was spectacular!”. (!!) He told me that he was going to get together with their friends and discuss possible abuse survivor groups for me to give it to as well, if I were up for it. After telling me all of the things he liked about it, he gave me a couple of suggestions for future talks and then invited me inside. He proceeded to give me fatherly advice on going after every possible connection (my greatest barrier).
On a different rainy day, I decided to go for a very short walk just to the edge of the beach. A woman was riding her bike in the opposite direction and stopped when she saw me. It turned out that she had attended my last talk and apologized for having to leave without introducing herself. She told me that she has climbed all of the 4,000 foot peaks in New England and within a couple of minutes, we decided to go on a hike together! (I could not find anyone to go on a hike with me since the PCT which has been extremely disappointing!).
I also attended a play that a friend who works in the coffee shop I go to was acting in. The next day, I went back to the shop (after already gotten my coffee in the morning) when her shift started so we could chat about the play. There were too many customers for us to do that, however. I stood by the counter as she asked a man if he wanted one of the pies he was eying. “If I could eat pie and look like her, I would get one!” he said. “You probably don’t eat pie” he said to me.
“You wouldn’t believe what I eat!” I responded. “I eat ice cream every night, scones, chocolate bars…”
“Well, you must be 25.”
“No. I’m old! It’s yoga!”
Within the next couple of minutes, I find out that he is the best friend of one of my favorite yoga teacher’s parents! We exclaimed about how amazing she is for the next few minutes and then somehow, I let it be known that I teach yoga, too. He asked where and when I said Cambridge, he said, “Too bad. That’s too far away for me.”
“But I live here! I want to teach here!”
A couple of days later, we met for coffee and talked about possible places to hold lessons, methods of advertising, and his own interest in taking some lessons. I left our meeting filled with hope and the belief that I CAN build my own life!

About a week later, I asked the girl at the counter if she would be interested in joining an informal yoga class outside with some of the other coffee shop girls. A customer who was eating at the table perked up. “When is this class?”
I couldn’t believe it…! (What is going on??!)

Finally, I was walking by the post office one morning after getting my coffee and saw a woman who attended my talk. She had given me a hug afterwards and chatted with me and her daughters for a moment. “I wanted to run something by you,” she said. I thought she might have an idea for where I could give another talk. “My daughters and I were wondering if you could lead a yoga class down at the beach sometime.” I gave her my e-mail.

I believed this was all happening because I spoke my truth at my talk and for the first time, due to a question from someone in the audience, I told the people there that I wanted to find as many places to give my talk to as possible, that I wanted to teach yoga, and that I wanted to write. Previously, when asked what I am doing for a job, I said I was still struggling with that. The timing of all of these occurrences also coincided with my decision to let someone in my life go. And boy did the universe respond!

But then… I let the person back in when they decided that it had been too long, none of my connections actually manifested (my potential client canceled, the woman who wanted to do beach yoga never e-mailed, I never heard anything about other possible groups to deliver my talk to), and then I got very sick with a bad cold. My energy completely drained out of me for several days. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me! And then I felt a cold coming on. I taught yoga for the next several days and tried to stop the cold from magnifying, knowing that it always takes me 3 weeks to recover from. By Friday, it had become full-blown. I rested for 4 days, during which any moment that I was awake, I was either sneezing, coughing, or blowing my nose. And then my car broke down for the 4th time since the PCT! (!!) It was a complete downward spiral. I taught another round of classes while sick, and then cut my planned couple of days hiking in the White Mtns short. It was my one window of hiking this summer, as I had been scheduled to present at Pinkham Notch- the place where my hiking life started 15 years ago. I really hoped to have several of my friends there- people I could enjoy a hike with. But once again, I ended up having to go alone. And then, the morning of the presentation, I was suddenly besieged by crippling intestinal pain once again! I thought I might not even be able to drive! Hours later, the pain had not subsided at all, and my hiking trip was cut to one solitary day.

Now, although the cold is still lingering, I am back to yoga (although struggling with a torn cartilage injury in my left ribcage, as well as my perpetually torn groin and achilles) and trying once again to become a business woman and create a way to make a living for myself. So far, I have made everything that I am doing happen by myself. I have written to 109 libraries and have scheduled 8 talks in September. But you can only get so far on your own. I know that I will need the assistance of others to help spread my offerings.
I’m hoping I can find myself back in the same kind of space I was in over a month ago!

What I found much more surprising and affecting than the actual news of Robin William’s suicide, was some of the things others have been writing about this man’s death. I felt compelled to express my opinion on some of these statements.

One of the first reactions that I read was the following, written by a man (the cousin of one of my high school classmates) who was part of an opening act for Williams in the late 70’s and who remained in contact with him for the remainder of his life. I have excerpted the following pieces:

[Talking about lawsuits stemming from stealing the material of other comedians]

“Robin often owned up to it, allowing that he probably did, though unintentionally in most cases, steal the line or bit, and offer money as compensation. I saw a first hand example of that too, when we were on the tour. One day, Ruby told him a funny anecdote that had happened to her when she was younger. The next day, he told the same story to us as though it had happened to HIM!

During that week we did Mork, he was also savoring the fruits of his fame, with his nights usually ending around 2 or 3 AM, despite a 7:00 call the next morning on the set. Every night was a blur of performing, drinking, eating, and partying, and on some days, it caught up to him. When the show was finally cancelled in 1982, he left LA, and he and his wife bought a ranch in Napa, about 60 miles north of San Francisco. He and his wife had their first child, which helped him conquer the urge to party heartily, but unfortunately didn ‘t save the marriage. I remember hanging with him in the early 90’s, talking about those good old days, and he mentioned his denial at the time, of saying to his shrink, I think I got this drug thing under control. I can keep it under two grams a day.

In spite of a career most of us would dream of, he was rarely happy in it.

….

When I talked to him in early 2008, it was clear to me that his second marriage was about to end, but I could also see the woman hanging around him was not just some groupie or agent, and she became his third wife three years later. Again, he should have been happy, but apparently wasn’t, and had gone back to booze after a celebrated stint in rehab, as well as a heart attack.

Could anyone have foreseen that he was being so eaten up inside that he decided to end the suffering himself? Certainly no one like myself…”

While I find it interesting that despite listing his addiction and denial problems, the author concludes that he could not have foreseen Robin’s final action (a denial in itself), the line that really jumped out at me and the one I could not ignore, was the one that read, “He SHOULD have been happy.” I find this line of thinking MUCH more stunning than the news of Robin’s suicide, itself. To me, this statement reflects a huge problem within our society- the fact that people are expected to be happy in the first place, and secondly, that the things outside of us are what makes us happy. This kind of sentiment offers no compassion or understanding towards the interior state of a human being, which is something that can only be felt and experienced by that person. All of the money in the world, a big house, a new wife or husband (or girlfriend or boyfriend) can not alter the way a person feels on the inside. Anything external, including new love, can make a person feel good for a period of time, but we can never escape our own interior worlds. We must therefore learn how to care for and comfort our own selves. Nothing outside of us can do this for us. No one has a right to make a judgment on what “Should” make another person happy. We are all build differently, with different needs, wants, and personalities. I remember when I was suffering through a period of depression while I was working in the lab I was in, and telling a co-worker how I was feeling. “You live by the ocean. You have no right to feel sad!” was her response. I was taken aback. Yes, I live near the ocean, but that doesn’t mean I was getting the chance to visit it, and what did that fact have to do with what I was experiencing internally? She wasn’t even allowing herself to hear me.

I’ve also heard several people respond to Robin’s death by saying that suicide is a selfish thing to do. Again, I found myself having difficulty accepting this opinion. People who say that it is a selfish act are not being compassionate towards the person in pain. I can argue that wanting a person who is constantly in agony to stay alive just so that person doesn’t have to feel the pain and sadness over their loss is just as much a selfish act. No one has any control over the timing or circumstances of another person’s death. Your loved one could die in a car accident tomorrow. No matter how they leave, you will have to experience the difficult feelings of their loss. It’s all a natural part of life. The timing is not up to you. I have extensive experience with the feelings of depression and honestly have often felt like I don’t want to exist anymore many times. My energy gets so low and being so alone, I sometimes find it difficult to find positive things to grasp onto. The life of a human being is full of suffering. Some of us were given far more to deal with and heal from than others. A depressed person feels extremely isolated, alone, lacking in life energy, and experiences great difficulty in finding anything hopeful to grasp onto. It is a very dark place that easily spirals downwards and becomes harder and harder to make one’s way out of. In this state, death often seems like the only relief. A person doesn’t commit suicide to cause pain to the people they know. They do it because it is the only relief that they can think of from the constant, unbearable pain that they are experiencing. And who is to say how long another human should be alive- especially when suffering to such a great degree? I feel like Robin Williams lived a full-life. He left behind an extraordinary body of work and made millions of people laugh and smile. Perhaps he completed the work that he came here for. We don’t owe anything to anyone else. We can’t live our lives for the sake of another person. Is it right to force two people who can’t stand one another to stay in a marriage “for the sake of the children?”. This scenario hurts everyone involved. I feel the same way as in the case of a suicide. A person can not stay alive and feel miserable all of the time just to remain living for someone else or to keep someone else from feeling difficult feelings. We are each in charge of our own lives. We are each responsible for our own selves. Is it possible to intervene and help a person who is suffering? Of course. We should always reach out to one another and do whatever we can to make those around us feel loved and important. A hug and a listening ear do SO much for a person who is feeling depressed and these are things that each one of us can easily offer to one another. However, what a person ultimately chooses to do is their own right.

I also heard an interview with Joan Rivers on NPR which confused me.
She began by stating, “Shocking, Shocking news!”.
Tom Ashbrook: “Did you see a tortured soul, Joan?”

Joan Rivers: “..,We’re all tortured- comedians… you know what I mean? He was wild, he was manic, he was crazy, he went off on tangents, but that’s what made him brilliant. And no, tortured, no and um you wished you had seen it so maybe we could have all helped him a little more but absolutely this blindsided me.”

(So she starts off by saying that all comedians are tortured, but then says that he wasn’t and that people weren’t aware of his problems? Instantly conflicting herself…)

She speculated that his depression came from not been acknowledged as a serious actor.
(Umm, no…)

Tom Ashbrook: “What was he like off stage?”

Joan Rivers “Every time I saw Robin… always full of fun… you could never get a real conversation going with him.”

(That in itself wasn’t a huge warning sign? A person that is incapable of holding a conversation?)

Tom Ashbrook: “Because he was, uh, because the cap was always off the bottle, because he was letting it flow?”

Joan Rivers: “Letting it flow and maybe when you hit a nerve, he took that nerve and bounced it out and made it funny.”

(So he was constantly deflecting his own pain, not allowing himself to feel anything, and attempting to hide his truth from himself and those around him.)

Joan Rivers : “Looking back, we never ever talked, say 20 minutes, about anything seriously and I think it must have been so hidden and bottled up inside of him.”

(So she was, in fact, aware that this was not healthy behavior… Conflicting herself again).

From these responses, and from my personal experience as a person living with depression, it is clear that our culture doesn’t want to recognize the fact that so many of us are hurting and suffering inside. We have become so disconnected from ourselves and from one another that we turn away from any sign of pain, not wanting to see it or feel it, and have replaced this connection with an attempt to externally buy happiness and then judge one another if someone admits they don’t feel happy all the time. “But you have x, x, and x… You have no reason not to be happy!” This judgement then places us in a state of shame. We feel that we must be doing something wrong. We become even more isolated, more lonely, and more depressed. No one feels free to talk about their feelings for fear of being labeled, fired from their jobs, told that they should be seeing a therapist or taking medication. Five months after my brother’s death, my boss told me, “You should be over this by now. It’s time you see a therapist.” (Really??) There have been so many times that I wanted to say, “All I need is a friend! All I need is someone to listen to me, to tell me that I am valuable and worthy. All I need is a hug- to be shown that someone does actually care.” I personally don’t like depression being labeled as an “illness”. To me, an illness is something that can be cured- a virus or a bacterial infection that can be eradicated. An illness is something that you can completely recover from. Unfortunately, depression is not something that can be gotten rid of. It is a way that a person has been made through no fault of their own. It stems from an ancestral pool of genes that were handed down and exacerbated by environmental conditions and personal experiences. It is something that a person will have to live with for the remainder of their lives. There are things that can be done to tame the magnitude and frequency of episodes, but it will never fully go away. It is a part of our very make-up.
This personality trait also brings gifts with it-healing abilities, creative abilities, abilities to feel strongly, empathize with others, connect on a deeper level, affect the lives of those around them. People who suffer greatly have a tremendous amount of insight to offer to the world. Those of us who suffer with it must do everything we can to learn how to bring ourselves comfort, self-validation, and strength, and to reach out to others and ask for help when we need it so that we can keep offering our gifts and not allow such a great disconnection from our true selves (which is what I feel depression really is), and those who don’t suffer from it must remember that the tiniest acts of recognizing the existence of some one else- by making eye contact or asking how one is doing- can make a huge difference in a person’s life and can even keep someone alive. We must stop denying our own pain and understand that everyone around us- our friends, family, co-workers, people we see on the streets and in the grocery stores- is fighting some kind of battle and dealing with a broken heart of some sort. We must start sharing our stories with one another and talking about what it feels like to live a human life that is full of struggle. We must reach out to one another, offer our hearts, and help uplift one another. We must help remind each other that we are all truly in this together.

The two responses about Robin William’s death that I did really connect with are the following.
The first is by author and healer Jeff Brown:

“Robin Williams is gone. Yet another whose gregarious social face did not reflect his inner world. We lose so many people everyday to unresolved pain that overwhelms their consciousness. Few are well-known. Most live anonymous lives. We must prioritize authentic revealing and emotional release in our world. We must slow down to see each other deeply and to share our inner worlds so that no one feels alone with their pain. There are so many of us here, yet so many suffer in isolation. We have to keep peeling the masks away. We have to keep sharing our truths. We have to.”

And the second is by Anne Lamott:

“This will not be well written or contain any answers or be very charming. I won’t be able to proof read it It is about times like today when the abyss is visible and we cannot buy cute area rugs at IKEA to truck out the abyss. Our brother Robin fell into it yesterday. We are all staring at the abyss today.

I called my Jesuit friend the day after the shootings in Newtown, stunned, flat, fixated, scared to death: “Is there any meaning in the deaths of twenty 5 and 6 year old children?”

Tom said, “Not yet.”

And there is no meaning in Robin’s death, except as it sheds light on our common humanity, as his life did. But I’ve learned that there can be meaning without things making sense.

Here is what is true: a third of the people you adore and admire in the world and in your families have severe mental illness and/or addiction. I sure do. I have both. And you still love me. You help hold me up. I try to help hold you up. Half of the people I love most have both; and so do most of the artists who have changed and redeemed me, given me life. Most of us are still here, healing slowly and imperfectly. Some days are way too long.

And I hate that, I want to say. I would much prefer that God have a magic wand, and not just a raggedy love army of helpers. Mr. Roger’s mother told him when he was a boy, and a tragedy was unfolding that seemed to defy meaning, “Look to the helpers.” That is the secret of life, for Robin’s family, for you and me.

I knew that those children at Sandy Hook were caught in God’s loving maternal arms at the second each crossed over, and the teachers were, too. I believe the shooter was too, another child of God with severe mental illness, because God loves, period. But this is controversial.

I know Robin was caught too, in both the arms of God, and of his mother, Laurie.

I knew them both when I was coming up, in Tiburon. He lived three blocks away on Paradise drive. His family had money; ours didn’t. But we were in the same boat–scared, shy, with terrible self esteem and grandiosity. If you have a genetic predisposition towards mental problems and addiction, as Robin and I did, life here feels like you were just left off here one day, with no instruction manual, and no idea of what you were supposed to do; how to fit in; how to find a day’s relief from the anxiety, how to keep your beloved alive; how to stay one step ahead of abyss.

We all thought after Newtown that gun control legislation would be passed, but no–not one new law. We think in the aftermath of Robin’s death that there will be consciousness raising about mental health, but I doubt it. The shock and awe will pass, like it did after Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s death. Unless…unless we take action. But what? I don’t have a clue. Well, here’s Glenn Close’s astonishing organization to raise awareness and diminish the stigma of mental illness, where you can give OR receive help: http://www.bringchange2mind.org/ Go there, OK?

In Newtown, as in all barbarity and suffering, in Robin’s death, on Mount Sinjar, in the Ebola towns, the streets of India’s ghettos, and our own, we see Christ crucified. I don’t mean that in a nice, Christian-y way. I mean that in the most ultimate human and existential way. The temptation is to say, as cute little believers sometimes do, Oh it will all make sense someday. The thing is, it may not. We still sit with scared, dying people; we get the thirsty drinks of water.

This was at theologian Fred Buechner blog today: “It is absolutely crucial, therefore, to keep in constant touch with what is going on in your own life’s story and to pay close attention to what is going on in the stories of others’ lives. If God is present anywhere, it is in those stories that God is present. If God is not present in those stories, then they are scarcely worth telling.”

Live stories worth telling! Stop hitting the snooze button. Try not to squander your life on meaningless, multi-tasking bullshit. I would shake you and me but Robin is shaking us now.

Get help. I did. Be a resurrection story, in the wild non-denominational sense. I am.

If you need to stop drinking or drugging, I can tell you this: you will be surrounded by arms of love like you have never, not once, imagined. This help will be available twenty/seven. Can you imagine that in this dark scary screwed up world, that I can promise you this? That we will never be closed, if you need us?

Gravity yanks us down, even a man as stunning in every way as Robin. We need a lot of help getting back up. And even with our battered banged up tool boxes and aching backs, we can help others get up, even when for them to do so seems impossible or at least beyond imagining. Or if it can’t be done, we can sit with them on the ground, in the abyss, in solidarity. You know how I always say that laughter is carbonated holiness? Well, Robin was the ultimate proof of that, and bubbles are spirit made visible.”

One of my yoga teachers read the following passage to us during savasana in a class I took over a week ago.

“Feel as grateful to existence as possible-for small things, not only for great things … just for sheer breathing. We don’t have any claim on existence, so whatever is given is a gift.

Grow more and more in gratitude and thankfulness; let it become your very style. Be grateful to everybody. If one understands gratitude, then one is grateful for things that have been done positively. And one even feels grateful for things that could have been done but were not done. You feel grateful that somebody helped you-this is just the beginning. Then you start feeling grateful that somebody has not harmed you-he could have; it was kind of him not to.

Once you understand the feeling of gratitude and allow it to sink deeply within you, you will start feeling grateful for everything. And the more grateful you are, the less complaining, grumbling. Once complaining disappears, misery disappears. It exists with complaints.

It is hooked with complaints and with the complaining mind. Misery is impossible with gratefulness. This is one of the most important secrets to learn.”

Osho

While she was reading it, I was thinking how lucky she is to have practiced and taught yoga so much that this is how she always thinks. I felt a little guilty for knowing these things, but not always feeling this way. (“Okay, I will remember to feel grateful, again”, I thought).

Then, just before she closed the class, while we sat facing her, palms in prayer, she said, “The reason why I wanted to read that today was that I found myself complaining a lot this past week. I was like ‘Meh’…”. In that instant, I suddenly felt so much more grateful to her for us telling us that than for reading the passage, itself!
I remember one day after the long, seemingly never-ending winter that we had this past year, at the start of class, she commented about the sun finally appearing for a moment before it quickly disappeared back behind the clouds. “I’m still mad at it, though.” she said, as she glared out the window. That made me smile. A lot of times, it seems as if many yoga teachers don’t struggle with the weather- the cold and dark and snow, or the heat and humidity- like I do and I wonder why I can’t be more like them. It’s so easy to think of your yoga teacher as the embodiment of love and peace- people who seem to live without the struggles that we do- but the truth is that they need this practice just as much as anyone else. They go through the same struggles that we all do- painful breakups, miscarriages, flooded houses, difficult family members, strangers who yell at them, seasonal depression, stress, etc. The reason that they teach is that they have found the practice to be of tremendous use in bringing back more of a balanced perspective and connection to the peace that always resides inside of us, but which is easy to sway away from. This practice helps return us to our center.

Several weeks ago, I told the group that I was teaching that this would be a different kind of class and that the inspiration for it came from my need to ground myself the night before. I had just given my second talk that night- 2 months after my first talk- and I did not know a single person there. I felt more and more nervous as I started to speak, and as my energy got higher in my body, my brain was having a hard time remembering the introductory speech that I had memorized. The audience was incredibly sweet and supportive, but I still felt the nervous, out of body feeling when I got home that night and knew that I needed to do a grounding yoga practice to help settle me down. Luckily, I had learned that holding postures longer helps with sending your energy down into the earth. It’s not something that I had learned from one of my live classes, so I thought it would be helpful to introduce the idea to my students in case they ever needed it, as well. The class was strong and solid and I was so proud of them for holding poses such as ardha navasana for one minute long (not an easy thing to do)! I think that practice brought out strength that they hadn’t known they possessed before!

More and more, I am hearing admissions from my yoga teachers about times in which they have struggled. This openness and honesty allows us to see them as fellow human beings who are in this life together with all of us. It is for this unity that I am most grateful.

I discovered the writing of Anne Lamott before the PCT and read a couple of her books since returning home. Not only does she understand the bigger picture of life, having a deep sense of knowing that we are all connected, that change and healing must begin with ourselves before it can expand out into the world, and that the most important thing in life is to be kind to both ourselves and others, but she is also hilarious. Today, she posted the following on her Facebook page and I wanted to share it because along with bringing to light the pain that we as humans can not avoid in life, it also made me laugh, which I find to be the most healing medicine of all. In this posting, she refers to platitudes that many people offer as a way to avoid feeling anything unpleasant. I have always had a problem with sayings such as “It’s all good” and “Everything happens for a reason.” To me, these sayings feel like a dismissal of my pain. I have a good friend who I have known for about 14 years, who always confounded me by dismissing my feelings whenever I shared a story of something difficult that I was going through. Her favorite saying was, “It’s all good.” Actually, it’s not all good… It most definitely is not. Life is a mixture of good and bad, pleasant and unpleasant, pain and triumph. Some of us have had more than our fair share of pain and sadness. I never understood why she was so quick to defend the person in my stories who was causing me harm. And I never understood why she could never sympathize with my feelings. Wasn’t I her friend? Was she even hearing what I was saying? It wasn’t until I was in the middle of my yoga teacher training that I was struck by an epiphany. She couldn’t empathize with my pain because she wasn’t allowing herself to feel her own feelings of sadness or frustration or anger. She was pushing away all of those darker feelings and only expressing positive emotions. Her way of relating to the world brought her many friends, but I could see that she wasn’t attracting what she deserved in terms of intimate relationships. Over the past year or so, she has begun to explore some of the feelings that she has previously avoided- such as the grief over the loss of her good friend and roommate over 12 years ago- and although we don’t get a chance to spend much time together and she is still quick to brush away anything negative and amplify any inkling of positivity (whether it exists or not), I can tell that her feelings of empathy and compassion are expanding, which is allowing us to connect more. I appreciate realness more than anything. The ability to sit with someone in their pain and just listen and offer a hand or a hug is all we truly need.

(This passage also reminded me of something that a senior yoga teacher whose workshop I took said, which really affected me. “Every problem is a doorway. Even when facing the worst problem- hearing the news that you only have one more day to live- you are presented with a choice. You can choose to head straight to the freezer and consume a pint of your favorite ice cream (this idea didn’t sound so bad to me…) or you can tell your loved ones that you love them but that you need this time to get yourself in the right frame of mind before this transition, say goodbye, and then sit and meditate.”)

Anne Lamott:

“Many mornings I check out the news as soon as I wake up, because if it turns out that the world is coming to an end that day, I am going to eat the frosting off an entire carrot cake; just for a start. Then I will move onto vats of clam dip, pots of crime brûlée, nachos, M & M’s etc. Then I will max out both my credit cards.

I used to think that if the world–or I–were coming to an end, I’d start smoking again, and maybe have a cool refreshing pitcher of lime Rickeys. But that’s going too far, because if the world or I was saved at the last minute, I’d be back in the old familiar nightmare. In 1986, grace swooped down like a mighty mud hen, and fished me out of that canal. I got the big prize. I can’t risk losing it.

But creme brûlée, nachos, maybe the random Buche Noel? Now you’re talking.

The last two weeks have been about as grim and hopeless as any of us can remember, and yet, I have not gotten out the lobster bib and fork. The drunken Russian separatists in Ukraine with their refrigerated train cars? I mean, come on. Vonnegut could not have thought this up. Dead children on beaches, and markets, at play, in the holy land?? Stop.

The two hour execution in festive Arizona? Dear God.

And let’s not bog down on the stuff that was already true, before Ukraine, Gaza, Arizona, like the heartbreaking scenes of young refugees at our border, the locals with their pitchforks. The people in ruins in our own families. Or the tiny problem that we have essentially destroyed the earth–I know, pick pick pick.

Hasn’t your mind just been blown lately, even if you try not to watch the news? Does it surprise you that a pretty girl’s mind turns to thoughts of entire carrot cakes, and credit cards?

My friend said recently, “It’s all just too Lifey. No wonder we all love TV.” Her 16 year old kid has a brain tumor. “Hey, that’s just great, God. Thanks a lot. This really works for me.”

My brother’s brand new wife has tumors of the everything. “Fabulous, God. Loving your will, Dude.”

My dog Lily’s ear drum burst recently, for no apparent reason, with blood splatter on the walls on the entire house–on my sleeping grandson’s pillow. Do you think I am well enough for that?
Let me go ahead and answer. I’m not. It was CSI around here; me with my bad nerves. And it burst again last night.

Crazy!

Did someone here get the latest updated owner’s manual? Were they handed out two weeks ago when I was getting root canal, and was kind of self-obsessed and out of it? The day before my dog’s ear drum first burst? If so, is there is an index, and if so, could you look up Totally Fucking Overwhelm[ed]?

I have long since weeded out people who might respond to my condition by saying cheerfully, “God’s got a perfect plan.” Really? Thank you! How fun.

There is no one left in my circle who would dare say, brightly, “Let Go and Let God,” because they know I would come after them with a fork.

It’s not that I don’t trust God or grace or good orderly direction anymore. I do, more than ever. I trust in divine intelligence, in love energy, more than ever, no matter what things look like, or how long they take. It’s just that right now cute little platitudes are not helpful.

I’m not depressed. I’m overwhelmed by It All. I don’t think I’m a drag. I kind of know what to do. I know that if I want to have loving feelings, I need to do loving things. It begins by putting your own oxygen mask on first: I try to keep the patient comfortable. I do the next right thing: left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. I think Jesus had a handle on times like these: get thirsty people water. Feed the hungry. Try not to kill anyone today. Pick up some litter in your neighborhood. Lie with your old dog under the bed and tell her what a good job she is doing with the ruptured ear drum.

I try to quiet the drunken Russian separatists of my own mind, with their good ideas. I pray. I meditate. I rest, as a spiritual act. I spring for organic cherries. I return phone calls.

I remember the poor. I remember an image of Koko the sign-language gorilla, with the caption, “Law of the American Jungle: remain calm. Share your bananas.” I remember Hushpuppy at the end of Beasts of the Southern Wild, just trying to take some food home to her daddy Wink, finally turning to face the hideous beast on the bridge, facing it down and saying, “I take care of my own.”

I take care of my own. You are my own, and I am yours–I think this is what God is saying, or trying to, over the din. We are each other’s. Thee are many forms of thirst, many kinds of water.”

I’ve lived in this little town for the past 12 years, but never really knew anyone around here except for my landlord and his small family. Every weekday, I commuted into Boston for my job, and after discovering my yoga studio in 2011, went there every night after work, grabbed a quick bit to eat at Whole Foods, took the 8:30pm train home, and prepared to do it all again in the morning. On weekends, I did my chores- laundry, grocery shopping, cooking meals for the week, and sometimes headed back into Boston for a yoga workshop. It has been a very solitary existence.
Since I’ve returned home from the PCT, I’ve been able to spend more time in this town in which I live than I’ve ever had before, which has been nice. When I’m not hiking for months at a time, I can’t seem to get enough time at home. I still commute into Boston most days to teach several yoga classes per week, as well as take a few classes at my studio, but I’ve also been able to walk on the beach more days than not this summer. For years, I never even visited the beach! I always wish that my friends from Boston would come up and visit me so that we could enjoy the beach, the nice weather, and a nice meal together, but as it has now been over 10 months since I’ve been back, I’ve given up on that hope. The girls at the coffee shop have been my only source of company around here. It is the only business that I frequent (not having any spending money) and whenever I feel too lonely, I go over there and sit for a bit with them. It took a long time (mainly due to the winter weather), but three of us finally hung out one afternoon at the end of May. It was so much fun! I got to meet a 50 year old talking pet bird, laugh a lot, hear some gossip, briefly check out a couple of small beaches, and eat a delicious sushi dinner. We agreed that we should continue to get together once a week- whoever is available can gather. Unfortunately, this idea never took form. The second gathering took place just last weekend when we went to watch one of the girls perform in her play.
However, in the meantime, I also became friends with a very sweet woman who suffers from Alzheimer’s (or something similar). In the winter, I would see her and her husband in the coffee shop eating their lunch. She is from Florida and loves to talk to anyone around. She has a very cheerful attitude and loves to joke and share memories from her past. One day this spring, after walking back to my apartment from the beach, I saw her picking flowers by a stone wall next to my landlord’s house. I waved to her and she waved back and then kept looking at me with a big smile on her face. She then waved me over and asked if I would like to come inside. “Okay!” I said. She offered me some ginger ale and said we could sit and chat and get to know one another. She kept asking me where I lived and if my family was expecting me. We went through several rounds of this and finally she asked me to write down my name and phone number. I told her she should call me and we could go for a walk sometime. She loves to walk to the beach. Over the next couple of weeks, I saw her a few times and she remembered my face and always greeted me enthusiastically, and even gave me a few hugs when we parted. I think she appreciates having someone to walk and talk with and I really enjoy her positive energy. She is full of child like wonder. Every time that she hears a bird, she stops and looks for it, her face open and lit up. And every time she walks onto the beach, she picks up limpet shells as if it was her first time doing so, telling anyone around, “These are called Mermaid slippers” and finds someone to give them to. She finds so much delight in watching children play and loves to talk with them and share her seashell findings. One day, she offered them to the teenaged lifeguard, who kindly accepted them. She also loves to pick flowers and make arrangements.
A couple of weeks ago, when I saw her and husband sitting with another couple on a bench by the ocean after my walk, she did not recognize me. It had been too long. “What’s your name?” she asked when I stopped to say hi. Her husband said, “That’s Wendy.”
“Oh! Her name should be ‘lovely’!” she responded. They made room for me to join them and they called me “Wendy Lovely”, after that, which I didn’t mind. I kept eyeing their white wine, but there were no extra cups to share. Before they left, I told her husband about my next talk that I was giving in a few days and he seemed very interested. They gave me a ride home and I gave them a flier. The next night, I saw them again at the beach. It was the night of the super moon and after my walk (instead of my planned attempt at going for a jog), I went home and found a stray beer in my refridgerator from when I had a visitor at the beginning of April. I walked back down to the beach and drank my beer with my newfound company, as we shared peanuts. It was so nice! The moon took forever to appear, but we all stayed to watch it rise.
And as promised, Charlie and his wife came to hear my talk! Charlie was very concerned that I only posted a flier at the coffeeshop that I go to (The library does most of the publicity and I don’t spend any energy on trying to get anyone to attend. I know that whoever is meant to be there will be there). This was the first talk in which I was having a great deal of trouble getting my slideshow to appear on the screen. Because I made it on Mac-specific software, it is complicated to transfer to an external source. Charlie and Christine were the first couple to arrive, and because I was trying to figure out this major issue, I didn’t have much of a chance to say hi. Another couple came in, but as the clock ticked toward 7, no one else had arrived. Charlie told me that I should have put fliers up other places. I was still working through the connecting problems (Charlie said I would have to reschedule it and show it in my apartment), so I wasn’t very concerned about the lack of an audience- if four people were there, I would still give the presentation. But then, the librarian opened the door to discover a crowd waiting in the lobby! They didn’t think they were allowed in! As they poured into the room, Charlie gave me two thumbs up and I flashed him a big smile! Everything was just fine!

After my talk (the fourth one that I’ve given so far), the connections started to grow…
(I will write about this in another post.)
It’s been a difficult 10 months, but things are finally starting to turn around for me!

My dear friend (and very first yoga teacher), Checka, did an amazing experiment that I would like to share with you. When she first presented the pictures in 2012, she wrote, “These are photos from an ‘energy experiment’ that I did with a group of teenage boys with whom I have a meditation group each week. We directed kind thoughts and positive energy towards one jar, and taped the corresponding positive words to it, and did the same with unkind thoughts and negative energy directed towards the second jar. Each bottle had the exact same amount of water in it prior to freezing. Pretty interesting stuff…”

Negative energy jar one day after freezing

Positive energy jar ice one day after freezing

Positive energy jar one day after freezing

View of how the ice formed in negative energy jar one day after freezing

After the jars had been in the freezer for one month, I melted the ice and this is what happened.

Today, she reminded us of this experiment, writing, “*Every* one of us will struggle at certain points to maintain clear and calm hearts and choose positive, gentle energy over the alternative. Was this [experiment] done in a lab as a perfectly controlled scientific experiment? No. Will it offer you a moment to pause, and wonder? I hope so:). Having witnessed it firsthand myself, I found it to be and incredibly powerful lesson in my journey as a student, teacher, and human.”

Dr. Maya Angelou believed words are things and that someday we will be able to measure their power. “They get on the walls. They get in your wallpaper. They get in your rugs and your upholstery and your clothes. And finally, they are into you.”

“Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible” – Dalai Lama

I am interested in trying this experiment myself! Who wants to join me?