Welcoming in July and the thick of summer.
I see the garden growing, the sun getting hotter and we’re all seeking relief and bits of beauty within our days.
Years ago I was listening to the actor Robert Redford being interviewed about his life philosophy. He said something I’ve never forgotten. In his view, life isn’t always that amazing but it’s the small moments of joy and beauty that you’ve got to stay awake for. That’s what makes life worthwhile. The small moments.
I like to remember his viewpoint especially now during our time of global reckoning. It gives me strength to hope that my small actions, all of our small actions toward change will impact the big changes the world requires.
Last January I was at a book reading for my 1st book, A Heart of Gold, and got into a really deep and lively discussion with some of the women in attendance.
After the reading I said, who wants to really talk about loving kindness? What it is, what it isn’t and why it’s pretty damn audacious to embrace it. It was a writers dream to then have so many engaged women opening up and being real.
I loved hearing stories from strong wise women (all of us) about how small moments of joy really matter the most when we’re in the midst of our wonderfully messy lives.
No matter how the world spins we’ll always need to find small retreats of joy to get us through and help us embrace our humanity.
The emotion of the world these past months has left me feeling reflective and hopeful.
The sun always rises and sets. The moon tells her story every month. We are rewriting history and I feel incredibly fortunate to be here during this time.
Whenever our goodness is seen, it is a blessing. Every culture and tradition understands the importance of seeing one another with love. An old Hasidic rabbi asked his pupils how they could tell when the night had ended and day begun, for daybreak is the time for certain holy prayers. “Is it,” proposed one student, “when you can see an animal in the distance and tell whether it is a sheep or a dog?” “No,” answered the rabbi. “Is it when you can clearly see the lines on your own palm?” “Is it when you can look at a tree in the distance and tell if it is a fig or a pear tree?” “No,” answered the rabbi each time. “Then what is it?” the pupils demanded. “It is when you can look on the face of any man or woman and see that they are your sister or brother. Until then it is still night.”