My Sister and My Grandma

My dear Grandma was very recently found to have a tumor. She is 93 and there is nothing else wrong with her. She will tell you about the first time she drove a car over the Brooklyn bridge. She will laugh as she shares with you stories about how she found her 2 sons "high as sh*t pots" (her words not mine) from some funny brownies. She will even beat you at pool. Okay, she may repeat a little, but hey, just ask my sister's boyfriend how many times I tell him about my green smoothies.

Grams does not like going to the doctors. And she has been having a really hard time with the needles.

I almost cried when I spoke to my Uncle this week. I guess I did a little. But they were very cleansing, healing tears.

He told me that he sat there with his mom (Grams) and held her hand. He told her, "Don't you remember when you used to sit with Danielle? Don't you remember how scared she was as a 5 year old little girl? But you held her hand and told her it was going to be over soon."

Danielle is in Thailand now with my other sister, Christina, and I miss them both.

Sometimes, even after we think we are done inspiring, we still inspire.

Danielle survived cancer many years ago. To be honest, we hardly ever talk about it. Not with my Mom, not with anyone.

Danielle may tell you that she didn't even realize how bad it all was. The only time she ever really felt scared was when she caught my Grandma and Dad crying once. She didn't understand.

Oh, and she hated spinal taps.

But my Grandma, 74 at the time, pulled it together. And she was there for Danielle and for my family. My mother was pregnant with Christina at the time of Danielles chemo, so it was a challenge for her.

On Sunday my Grandma shared the story of how one time Danielle needed to be rushed to the hospital. Grandma was on a date with her boyfriend, Steve, at the time. She got a call from my Dad and she left Steve solo and headed straight to the hospital.

"Oh yeah," my Grandma talks sweetly as I sit beside her Sunday at my Uncle's house.

"I just left. Nice guy, Steve. He didn't say anything. I left and it was the middle of the night and I drove by myself straight to the hospital. They wouldn't even let me into her room. Oh you know them, with sickness and stuff. They don't want you passing anything. So I just stood by the door the whole night and watched through the door. I wonder if she even knew I was there? But if she woke up, I wanted her to see me, you know? Hi sweetie...its Grandma..." She talks in a kiddie voice. She talks not looking for admiration or gratitude. She is not trying to tell a good story. She is just talking. Remembering.

It never dawned on me that that moment of strength would come back around in such a way.

That holding Danielle's little 5 year old hand as the needles came would serve as inspiration for Grandma to say, "I can do it too".

I just wanted to share that with you.

-------------------

Here is more of Danielle's story:
 http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-6974/How-My-Sister-Beat-Cancer-When-She-Was-5-Years-Old.html

Don't Forget You're Perfect

I Have A Perfect Body

I have a perfect body. And I'm not afraid to say it.

Okay, maybe I am a little...

It was the second time this week that I smiled gently, yet deeply, as the thought crossed my mind, “I have a perfect body.”

I was seated in a thirty-minute silent meditation. After spending some moments quietly noticing my breath, I began to scan my body, beginning at the crown.

“Breathing in, I recognize that I still have a brain that thinks for me. Breathing out, I am grateful for my brain.”

“Breathing in, I realize that I still have eyes that see for me. I still have a nose that smells lovely roses and a mouth that tastes sweetness without effort. Breathing out, I am grateful for my eyes, nose and mouth.”

As I moved along, an inner wave of emotions warmed my organs and I found my lips slowly pulling upwards into a small smile.  

I was breathing in for my feet, when the conditioned thought crept into my mind about their rather large size and un-pedicured style. Before I could finish that thought, I said, “thinking”. I let go and continued with my meditation.

“Breathing out, I realize I still have two feet that walk for me.”

Not only that, but I can jump, I can run, I can hop and even balance on one foot or a few toes if I’d really like. And, I do all that without thinking. It just happens.

And so I smiled…

…Because I have a perfect body.

I am so very lucky. Man, I am SO lucky for the life I have been given and for the family & friends around me who support me. I really am. Without them, I'd be nothing. They keep me breathing and searching for more. And my own body keeps me breathing and searching for more. 

And, yet, how often I take all this for granted. There are so many people out there who do not have the privilege to see the rose bushes so clearly or walk effortlessly on two feet. I have these gifts and sometimes I just do not appreciate them.

In this moment of my meditation, I do. I appreciate my dear brain and beating heart. I want to hug my little legs because I live for the sensation of running down a sandy beach to the ocean that calls my name.

And then, awake from my meditation, and smiling blissfully, I see these words on paper.

“I have a perfect body.”

As I read them over, my smile gets nervous and I want to erase.

“What would people say if I spoke these words aloud?”

I imagined those who would laugh at my “imperfections”. My own mind is listing those areas I’d like to improve already!

I thought of those who would curse me. “How dare she? Who does she think she is?”

“Why is it so unnatural for us to love ourselves?” I ask.

Why is it nerve-wracking, or even taboo, to be proud of your body and declare it openly?

We were all born with perfect bodies. It is the way our minds become conditioned to perceive perfection that creates flaws. Even our weaknesses, when embraced fully, can be our most compelling, inspiring and motivating attributes.

We are all works in progress- yes, that is true. I am not saying that we are perfect in every sense of the word. I am just saying that we were created this way for a reason. The freckles have been placed out of perfection. It is the mind’s eye that says “they are ugly” or “they are beautiful”.

When I start to pick on myself for one area or another that is a-little-more-of-a-work-in-progress, I ask myself, “How does this weakness serve me? What does this giant red pimple on my chin encourage me to do?”

For if I did not have this lovely gem, blaring in my face, I would most likely continue to eat as much chocolate and do as much yoga without showering, that I so please. But, sometimes we need these pleasant little reminders.

Clearly, there are much larger obstacles to worry about: a broken leg, a serious infection, etc. But often times, those too can open our eyes to something we may have been oblivious to before.

I love a song by Regina Spektor that sings “I have a perfect body, ‘cause my eyelashes catch my sweat.”

That was the first time I smiled deeply this week.

Take some time to smile for your eyelashes and the beautiful way our bodies work effortlessly for us. 

There’s so much of that in the world that we forget is perfect. 

---------

If you need some reminders of your perfection, you can shop for a little hand-made jewelry piece here: http://www.byhappiness.org . My lovelies in El Salvador would always remind me that I have something to smile for, no matter how gorda I had gotten from all the tortillas. 

So You Say I'm a Hippie

The Life of Labeling

My friend walked into my house last night as I was flipping through the pages of “Self” Magazine.

“Oh, so you DO do normal girl stuff!” He exclaimed with pleasant surprise.

My friend made me watch my very first episode of The Simpsons last night.

At my house, my Netflix is stocked with documentaries.

My little sister’s boyfriend asked me if I’m a hippie.

Hippie?? Do hippie’s use deodorant?

I am usually the friend at the diner who orders cheese fries with gravy and chicken fingers.

At home I cannot wait to chuck some spinach and bee pollen into my blender and relax with a tall glass of apple-cider-vinegar-water.

I don’t call myself a hippie. I don’t call myself a normal girl. I don’t call myself a yogi or a finance major or a preacher.

I had a 10 minute yoga session outside in 9 F yesterday in my purple pants and tiny tank.

My friend told me it was “too cold” for that and that I would get sick.

I called it invigorating.

These ‘labels’ that we create for objects, people and circumstances can be so funny sometimes.

I don’t mind the labels, actually. In a way, they create a sense of normalcy and interrelatedness in our society.

People would FREAK if all of a sudden we decided to call rollerblades inline skates.

But did we ever really decide if a tomato is a fruit or a vegetable?

What if we did not have to define things within the standardized human language or by the laws of science?

I studied Business in college, and was pretty darn good at it, if I should say so myself. I was all Honors and dorky and often found myself behind a black pencil skirt and collared shirt applying for jobs in big NYC offices.

I had my skirts turned into yoga pants.

I grew up in the Catholic church and took my dear Grandma’s name, Faustina, at my confirmation.

Last night, I did a 30 minute silent meditation at the Westchester Buddhist Center.

I am still a finance major...a volleyball player...a skiier...a big, and little, sister...a writer...a peace promoter...a laugher...

I’m sarcastic. I’m smart. I speak spanish.

I make a lot of mistakes. I am rude to my mother. I miss important activities with my friends. I eat pizza.

I cry. I curse. I feel the cold. I drink beer on Friday nights.

I want to have an impact on the world. I believe in world peace. I believe the animals are our brothers, the earth is our mother, and the sun and flowers live within us.

I will write a book. I will have my own business. I will go back to El Salvador. I will study meditation in India. I will have my own family and be financially independent.

You can call me a hippie, a head-stander, or a helper.

I’m not quite sure I am any of those things… or all of them.

Rather than spending my time trying to define or be defined, I just use my time the way I feel fulfilled using it. That is it.

Sometimes, if I feel really empowered by some literature, by some thoughts, by a movement in my body or a feeling in nature that invigorates me - I choose to share it.

Because, while we have all seen and felt the painful effects of technology, we can also use it to spread positive messages. And I think it’s nice to connect with those people who choose to connect with me during those moments of empowerment or humanizing weakness. I notice how the inner peace of others motivates me and I love when I, myself, have done something good for someone else... just by being me! And sharing that with people is contagious- the good kind.

You can go outside on a cold day without the “appropriate” clothes and say it’s “freezing”.

Or, you can say, “the wind on my bare skin, reminds me that I am alive. The deepness of my breath reminds me that I can still breathe. The trembling in my legs reminds me that I still have 2 of them. The air is cold, yet the sky is so very blue and the sun still shines between the branches of very majestic trees. And, there, just ahead of where I am looking in warrior two pose, are the remnants of my dog’s lunch...”

And you laugh.

Because sometimes we fail to see what is right in front of us.

There is so much depth and beauty in all that we are living - yet we sometimes only see the labels.

It feels so good to embrace yourself and all that you are without being limited by how others or a dictionary would define you.

What do you REALLY want to do today? Allow yourself 20 minutes to do it.

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Finding My Hands

Finding My Hands

Sacred Activism

Trust...

      Listen...

            Sit down...

                  Do nothing...

The words flowed effortlessly from his lips toward my heart and the effect was as invigorating as a cold bag of freshly poured coconut water in the hot Salvadoran summer.

"I may not have as much money or a nice home like others. I cannot give you much food and I don't know how to read or write. But my heart is big and I will share whatever I can." Nina Otinia spoke these words to me the very first day I sat down upon her torn hammock, watching the chickens peck the ground beneath me as her beautiful compassion danced around in my head. 

The two years I spent in rural Morazan, El Salvador are worth more to me than any words can convey.

Listening to Bunker Roy speak tonight, I felt, "Finally..."

Finally, someone understands the benefits of doing nothing. 

You see, for a full four months before I began to attempt sustainable development projects in El Salvador, I did nothing but sit with the people of my community.

All alone, as the only "white" female in my village, I realized that there would never be anything I could do to "help" my new friends if I did not understand their way of life: How they worked, what time they woke, what made them smile, what made them cry, where the cows grazed, who was in charge of what, and why it was all worth doing.

By walking beside them at 5am to the coffee fields, I gained the respect of my new friends. By milking a cow, I gained the trust of the people, the animals, the land. By sitting and listening, we became one.

Bunker Roy has started the Barefoot College in India, supporting alternative, creative ways of thinking and finding solutions to problems in rural areas by embracing the source. Bunker empowers Grandmas, by investing in their character and wisdom, thereby lighting an entire village...both metaphorically and literally. He has created a solar energy movement. 

I began going barefoot in El Salvador for many reasons. The top two were:

1. Everyone in my village went barefoot.

2. I wanted to connect more deeply with the earth. 

I have fallen in love with Bunker's concept of the Barefoot College for many reasons, as well. The top two are:

1. Value people for their compassion, confidence, soul and wisdom. This is the bare truth. Anyone can enroll for a certificate.

2. Trust. Without trust there will be no ownership and without ownership there will be no sustainability. 

Being alone in El Salvador, while sometimes the most painful nights of my life, was such a blessing. The life and the work I had was something that lives with my forever. Everyday a new challenge. Everyday a new experience. Every minute, learning. 

As Bunker speaks about the Grandma women engineers blossoming around the world, I flash back to El Salvador. I'm sitting on a long wooden bench propped up again a mud hut and Nina Otinia is walking around her yard collecting leaves and telling me stories about Morazan. 

She walks back up to the water basin and reaches for my empty coffee mug.

"These leaves are great for cleaning because they are tough and have a useful soap-like substance. Plus, they're free!" Nina Otinia says to me laughing to hide her insecurity at having little financial resources.

But I'm the one who is insecure as I wonder what chemicals are in my bottle of Dawn, as I notice the wealth of knowledge she has gained from the trees.

"...and so, I started digging wells." Bunker keeps me walking along with him.

I came back to New York 9 months ago... And I wondered what to do with my hands.

Here they type, moisturized and clean.

I looked at them as Bunker Roy spoke of digging wells.

And I longed for my organic compost-making days. And I felt Marjori's hand upon mine as we ran laughing to the next collecting of scraps. 

There is something so beautiful of working at the bottom. Of using your hands and doing manual labor. Sometimes, I lose my hands in New York city. Hands that can draw. Hands that embrace nourishing animals. Hands that feel our earth. Hands that hold other hands, of other women, of children, of people who want to share.

Because much of my new world does not understand the privilege I had to work alongside these Salvadoran women. Because a resume does not do justice to the wealth of knowledge I gained by doing nothing but listen for four months in a land of ancestry and wisdom. Because a certificate does not explain the best two years of education I have ever received. 

What an honor to be in the presence of Bunker Roy- to hear someone speak from the gut, without holding back, about the truth about sustainable development. 

     Because it does need to be bottom-up.

                And we do need to listen.

                        And our biggest challenge is our patience. 

When the world starts to open their ears and hearts to the voices of people like Bunker Roy, we will be much better prepared to tackle such challenges as world hunger and world peace.

I am so grateful for having found my hands again tonight.

Bunker Roy, Barefoot at CollegeDeepak Homebase

Bunker has encouraged me not to lose hope in a city where you can easily be lost. He has reminded me that I know Otinia, Nena, Mirna and their young children who they are working to support. These are my friends. Right now, we are small. But together, one day, we will be something beautiful: http://www.byhappiness.org

A World Without War

One day we'll turn on the tv and we won't see nothing 'bout war...

I wonder if Meiko really believes that.

I have a love-hate relationship with society. I unlock my thief-proof door and step outside the sturdy infrastructure of my heated home and take in all that is beautiful about my recycle-bin-bearing, orderly neighborhood. Most of the families are already off at their steady, reliable jobs and their children are studying in our worthy public school system.

I flash back to my neighbors’ stick homes in El Salvador with canvas doorways and the magazine-page-wallpapered interior design that is peeling down from the leaky rooftops.

Morazan, El Salvador 2010

Wow, look at all that we have created. Look at how far we have come. I think to myself as I look out into the society that wears the name Pleasantville with pride. 

And, yet, in all that we have created, we still have not come to love one another. 

Recycled bins go unfilled, we leave our American-sized dishes full of food at the restaurants and we curse those who cut us off on the highway. 

There is war in every corner of our planet.

There is a war with our neighbor for the more prestigious corporate job.

There is a war with the rivers between the fish and the factory pollution.

There is a war between cultures about “who wears it best”.

There is a war within each one of us. And yet we walk proud, as standing citizens in denial.

I don’t mean to say that we are terrible people. I do not believe that we are in any way.  I just have a love-hate relationship with society.

And I think that slowly (except rather expedited-ly and directly) we are all going blind. 

I will be the first person to point a finger at myself. 

Because it is not easy. We are so conditioned by society and by the media, by our friends and our families, by ourselves - to be and live a certain way. We don’t often take a second to think. We don’t have a second to think.

The Upanishads teach (and I whole-heartedly agree) “The world is my family.”

Northern-Vietnam 2009

We all come from the same ancestors. We all eat from the same plants. We all breathe from the same trees and drink from the same fountains.

There would be no me without you and there would be no us without the earth.

...Yet, we love to hate our own planet.

A planet that so unconditionally loves us and asks nothing of us. 

It rains when it becomes to hot and brightens up after months of dark. The flowers bloom every spring without encouragement from humanity and asks nothing in return for their bright petals. 

But, it is too much effort for us to put out our cigarette butts in the proper disposal because we don’t have 2 seconds to think about the flowers that we are killing with each litter. 

I saw a film a couple nights ago by David Lynch called “Meditation, Creativity, Peace”. 

Many Westerners are afraid of Meditation or do not have time for it. For those, I think it is nice to recognize that there are many forms of meditation.

Music can give you the euphoria you feel when letting yourself go into a place of peace. For some it is running and for others it is the surf. Either way, the mind and body needs a time for euphoria. For bliss. For peace.

I believe if we all took a few moments each day to practice mindfulness, maybe we would slowly begin to love our earth, our neighbors, our flowers, ourselves.

Plane over Pacific Ocean 2009

Because when you love yourself and find peace within, it is so easy to spread to others. Those others who really want the same thing as us. Those strangers and enemies who also want happiness. Those rivers and fish who also want freedom. Those trees and rivers who also want harmony. Those cultures and planets who also feel euphoria and that live within us if we could really understand that we share this universe together.

It can be overwhelming to think about “world peace” - the politics, the “separation of powers” and where to start with it all.

In actuality, it is all pretty simple.

Start with you.

I have recently felt an overwhelming sense of faith and optimism that one day we WILL see a world of peace. 

Sapa, Vietnam 2009
Solar-powered hotel.

There IS corporate social responsibility where there one time was not. There ARE growing numbers of farmers markets and there are more people shopping there. Communities are taking recycling more seriously and people are spreading love and insight through social networking. 

Be true to yourself first. Find peace and love and be a walking interbeing of those virtues. 

Smile at the blue skies.

Laugh at the playing children.

Morazan, El Salvador 2011

Cry at the mother bird who has lost her nest.

Savor the sunshine that radiates from your clementines. 

Vietnam Market 2009

Hug your mother, your father, your sister, or the guy who makes your coffee.

Touch the serenity of snow.

Say grace for the hands that cultivated the food on your plate.

Giggle at the little things that bothered you throughout the day when you realize that you are here now and that is all that matters.

Know the world is your family and you will see how your peace is contagious.

El Boqueron, El Salvador, 2010.
"Be like the trees" -Zen Buddhism.
Always growing. True to yourself. Spreading peace.

The Man Who Licked the Banana & Zen Buddhism

I stood perplexed, watching the man sitting in his shiny black shoes and blue collared shirt as he held his banana (peel still sealed) in both hands, licking it on the stairs inside Grand Central Terminal.

I did my best not to judge.

“Look away,” I told myself. “To each their own…”

“Don’t judge,” I told myself. “Alan Watts is in your bag. What would he think of you?”

Of course, in thinking not to judge, in trying not to look, in thinking about what he was thinking- I had already dug myself into a deep hole.

In my attempts to try and understand the Buddhist nature, I have inherently failed at Zen... and I imagine Alan Watts looking down at me, head thrown back, laughing as he watches me highlight the pages of his book.

Simply put:

“In walking, just walk. In sitting, just sit. Above all, don’t wobble.”

And I’m quite wobbly, I must admit.

If you don’t get it, try this:

           

            One does not criticize a pig for having a neck shorter than a giraffe.

Not an animal lover? Don’t worry, because:

           

            What is therefore to be gained from Zen is nothing special.

And

In studying or practicing Zen it is no help to think about Zen.

If a man seeks the Buddha, the man loses the Buddha.

Anyways, the Buddha is our natural state and everything is the Tao.

And while so simple, I’m wobbly. I have confessed.

For it is such a paradox for me to practice living free; for if you need to practice, you are, therefore not living free.

I try to understand and in trying, I do not understand. ---->

Last night I wrote about the empowerment of women. I spoke of the women who are abused in the Congo. My stomach hurts.

I find myself judging myself-

Reflecting on how empowered I feel during yoga and how I carry that with me after I walk out of the studio.

What about the women in the Congo, and other parts of the world, who don’t have that freedom?

I feel ashamed, for some time, of the pictures I have posted of myself- sharing my empowerment, encouraging others to find their space.

Who am I?

For others do not have that freedom.

But, “No” my mind turns on itself.

I won’t let “them” (society?) take me down (“try” to take me down?) too.

 I will walk for them.

For there will come a day when they, too, will be free.

They have not lost themselves. I hear their voices from the City of Joy when they say “move your feet.”

Eve Ensler said it last night. 

An African proverb says it too:

            When you pray, move your feet.

Chelsea knows.

Zen is the “liberation from the duality of thought and action.”

It is living spontaneously.

If you are having trouble understanding (we all are), this is what helps me:

Think about a time in your life when you just did something without thinking. For me it is jumping out of an airplane, singing in the shower, running down Bedford Road with music blasting in my ears,  or laughing with my Salvadoran children beneath the waterfalls. It is quite impossible for me to remember those moments without feeling the same sensation of pure bliss.

All of those situations required not an ounce of trying. The non-duality of thought and action; 

just being.

That is Zen.

It is also like this:

The pain I felt hearing the news last night about the Congo. The fear I felt when that poor man pulled the gun on me in Antigua. The sadness I felt at my grandmother’s diagnosis.

That, too, is Zen.

For me, to my understanding, Zen is the natural state. It is a state that exists when we do not try, when we do not think, when we just be.

It is not getting upset about the pain or being afraid to express the fear or questioning the sadness. If those things just happen, they just happen.

And so:

            When hungry, eat. When tired, sleep.

I can’t say stop thinking, because in trying to think, again you have fallen into the paradox of Zen.

To the logician it will of course seem that the point at which we have arrived is pure nonsense- as, in a way, it is. –Alan Watts.

But is it not also a bit non-sensical that we let society determine our jobs, our social class, how we dress and who we select to be our friends on Facebook? Who controls this life we live?

Zen is, in a way, pure nonsense- but I wonder about those women in the Congo- how their lives are so much more determined by spontaneity, without choice. They know what is real, where reality does not exist.

They “don’t need our help” they just need to be able to move their feet again.

To them, how non-sensical it would be to read Alan Watts, The Way of Zen! Yet, I wonder, if they are already living it- so much more than we.

For, when hungry eat. And when tired, sleep.

…And, here in “our” world, conditioned by the group, we often skip meals and deprive ourselves of sleep.

Unfortunately, you cannot be intentionally unintentional or purposely spontaneous, and so, here I stand in the hole that I began to dig when I started this blog.

Perhaps, all that is left to do, is grab an unpeeled banana and lick it.