How Can I Be in Nairobi?

I’m praying for lost souls this morning. 

After a peaceful weekend in nature, I come back to “civil”ization. The News is brimming with death statistics and I ask myself to be, instead, with the souls.

The Navy Yard. The United States. 13.

Nairobi, Kenya. Africa. 68.

The numbers hurt. But they don’t mean anything. The value of one life lost is just as tragic as the value of many. 

S/he was a son or daughter, a brother or sister, a friend.

I have never walked in Kenya, but my mind and heart travel there often. My sister was there last month. Our friend lives in Nairobi. The same friend who captured much of the footage of the Westgate incident with her husband.

This month, I met 3 students from Kenya. One of those students has shared with me many stories of his life.

He did not grow up in Nairobi, but Westgate happened often where he did grow up- we just don’t really hear about it. The News sometimes chooses what we get to hear, especially if we don’t go out looking for more- if we don't talk to real-life people. Sometimes, you don’t even have to go out looking- you just have to stop and listen.

Nature taught me that this weekend. At first, it’s a cloud forest... But when you step inside and you become the rainforest, the rainforest enters you. Suddenly, it’s not a “cloud forest”, it is vibrant greens, bright purple leaves, turquoise blue waters, howling animals, and vibrations of love- all that you did not know existed before. But then you feel it. And you know it is the only truth. This is what is not captured in a statistic of the number of species that exists in a rainforest. It makes me wonder about the same truth that is not captured in the statistics of Westgate.

My friend’s story of growing up in an indigenous community, following a blessed herd of animals and defending himself against warring tribes- that is not captured in the statistics.

I’m praying for lost souls this morning. Not just the ones we lost in the Navy Yard and in Westgate. I am praying for all those who have lost their lives and their story is not heard. I am praying for those young boys in El Salvador, who sometimes don’t have a choice when a man in the form of symbolic letters knocks on their door. I am praying for the children in Ciudad Colon, who have become distracted from their beautiful meaning of existence and taken their own lives. I am praying for my friend’s community in Northern Kenya, who also knows tragedy, warfare, and discrimination.

I am praying for the lost souls who did this. 

I am praying for all of us. 

We are all part of the Navy Yard and Westgate.

We have all lost a loved one. We have all acted out of hate. We have all repented for forgiveness.

As we read the News, let us keep in mind the souls, rather than the statistics. Let us take a moment to be with them.

And as we move forward in our day, let us carry with us compassion.

Ignorance, ego, anger, attachment and fear- they exist within all of us. These are the things that are responsible for the tragedies of the world. These are the things that have stolen our souls.

Let us remember that. In that sense, we know that “Navy Yard” and “Westgate” are labels for incidents that happened in specific locations, but the matter is a world matter. We are all souls seeking love. We all have the capacity for ignorance and anger- the very distractions of the mind that caused these tragedies.

As we move forward, let us ask ourselves what we can do today to cultivate compassion, friendliness and goodwill, so that our mind does not feed into the temptations of the distractions.

I’m praying for those lost souls this morning. I am taking some time to be with them.

More importantly, I am praying for myself. I am turning within and asking myself to find the strength to be who I need to be everyday to cultivate peace and love and not war- in all the forms that it emerges. 

I am not anxiety. I am not jealously. I am not competition.

I am love.

I cannot go to Westgate today. My soul is crying to hug those children. But I know that is not my place today.

What I can do today is be love for those around me. That’s all we can really do at the end of the day, after all, isn’t it? 

Thank God I'm Breathing

Sometimes I lay under the moon and thank God I'm breathing. 

Ever go snorkeling? I love the calming hissing sound of my heart and lungs working for me, as I glide weightlessly through silky cool water; my breath a beautiful rhythm of vibrations.

Sometimes, I wonder if we would all relax a little bit more if we could just hear ourselves breathing.

I think I ended up in the Environmental Program at the University for Peace down here in Costa Rica because I realized, one day, that I don't know what I'd do without the rainbow of colors that exists silently beneath the sea, or the vibrant greens that paint the mountainside and fill my airways with euphoria, or the ability to see up to the Universe of sparkling stars dancing around an elegant moon.

...To lay in the pitch black beneath the moon and give thanks for breathing: a moment that sends chills throughout my spine just thinking about it.

Then I pray, don't take me soon, 'cause I am here for a reason. 

We start class every day with an active listening exercise. To actively listen means to sit and do nothing. You don't talk, you don't ask questions, you don't nod your head. You just sit and listen to your partner's story. You be there with them. This is the most important part. The majority of our lives we spend within our own heads. "We're here but we're really gone," as Alanis Morsette so eloquently put it. It may seem like an easy task to sit and do nothing (unless you meditate, then you know). To be, means to really listen. To hear their words. To feel their feelings. To walk with them.

That was one of the greatest things I've ever learned in life. To walk with people. To become them.

These bodies, this flesh and bones, they create the illusion of separation. The beauty is in the connection.

To actively listen coaxes all of the blessings of the world to emerge.

Patience.
         
        Gratitude.
               
                  Compassion.

We are all here for a reason. When we start to see that, feel that...know it and live it: We become alive.

Sometimes in my tears I drown, but I never let it get me down. 

I listened to my partner's story today. He opened his heart, I looked into his eyes and I stepped into his soul. Together we walked along the northern border of Kenya. We followed the herds of animals. We left our children behind in school yards. We were wounded by warfare with neighboring tribes. We returned for our young ones. We watched as the distances became shorter. We felt the walls of modern structures creating frames around our open pastures. We wondered about the future, about our history, about our right now.

So when negativity surrounds, I know someday it'll all turn around. 

There is hate and destruction, fear and sadness, longing and despair in the world. It surrounds us. Yet for every left, there is also a right. Before we drown, we have the opportunity to swim towards the light. Every stroke in that direction counts.

All my life I've been waiting for, I've been praying for, for the people to say, 
that we don't want to fight no more, there'll be no more wars
and our children will play. 

Sitting silently, I listened as he spoke. I was cross legged with my hands resting in my lap, slightly bend forward. Resting and comfortable. He looked at me, almost smiling, naturally, and spoke in a calm rhythm. His eyes connected with mine and, sometimes, I saw his lips moving, but other times I was in Kenya watching the animals graze.

He told me that with children we can bring people together. One boy will run after another boy, no matter which tribe they belong to. At what age do we lose this ability?

One day. 

         One day. 
          
                   One day

Is it this "one day" that we are waiting for? Is that 'one day' out of reach? Or is it right now? And is it all we have? I often wonder who guarantees me tomorrow.

It's all one day.

What will you do with it?

Look around at all that is alive. Stop searching for something. Take steps... and arrive each moment. Just see the blessings that are all around us right now and be with them.

This is your one day. How will you live it?

"Actively listening".

There is so much constant sound around us, and usually we don't even hear it- just the parts we want to.  

The world can be an ocean waiting to drown you, if you see it that way. It may also be a vast water of cool heaven that flutters with vibrant colors of life and helps you to hear your own breathing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sl9voSKJmEU
"One Day" Matisyahu.

Falling In Love

I fell in love this weekend in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica. And it was on more than one occasion.

All the love culminated in one embrace with Jorge, the wrinkley old Tico who sold me my pure cacao and pure coconut oil treasures. The smell of dirty rum on his breath felt savory in my nostrils and through his sunburnt skin I read his story. Every day he stands in that same spot, selling fresh fruit and super foods to passerbyers and tourists- mostly tourists. Everyday he is there. All, but one. He missed one day in the past year. It was yesterday. Yesterday, he went to visit his mother- hi 84 year old mother who lives on the other side of the country. He hadn’t seen her in a year, he tells me, but he calls her every single day. He giggles with a twinkle in his eyes. For a moment, they become the eyes of his mother and I can feel the warmth that she passed on to him.

And then gets back to telling me about the healing properties of cacao and coconut. I realize that maybe I already read about this all before, but it sounds new and beautiful, with the sweet sound of his native tongue, sung from passionate soul.

I fell in love with the painted landscape of vibrant greens and thirst-quenching blues- the white sand that created a blanket for my body to rest between a joyful jungle and a serene sea.

Deep laughter with friends. Fun conversations with dreadlocked visionaries.

Swimming dogs and island jumping.

Paddle boards and blessed bike rides.

Ping pong and yoga, volleyball and naps in the shade.

Hammocks.

To fall in love with the sloth may be the most simplest feat of all. The slow and deliberate movements, the careful reaching and careless dangling: tell me how not to love in their presence?

The bliss of salt water than stings at your eyes and a sunburnt forehead.

A mama monkey carrying her baby, looking down at you in concern. For what do we come into their world? Such curiosity. Such compassion. Such concern.

How often do we take a moment to breathe and look into our surroundings?

To breathe and embrace the greatness that is offered to us everyday.

To feel life. To be it.

Sometimes we see what we have come to see. And, oh, how that inhibits the potential of all that the world has to offer us.

Listening to little old Jorge speak with such love, compassion and laughter brought me back to El Salvador- where lovely old ladies taught me how to make tortillas. His voice brought me back to Thailand, where guys on the beach fetched me fresh cocos. His twinkling eyes showed the image of my Grandma and all the ways she showed me how to love life.

I loved that little old man.

And I love to continue falling in love.  To re-live my most beautiful memories. To feel it all over again.

It is the most revitalizing power.

And the beauty of love is that to experience it, it must be shared… with someone or something. So, when we love, we spread the love.

Be a kid again. Feel the wind on your skin. Peddle fast on a bike. Climb a tree. Swim underwater. Listen to the birds. Talk to a stranger.

Keep an open mind. Embrace what is before you.

Love exists everywhere. You just need to be open to it. 

Whose Peace? Whose Poverty?

Graduate School sucks (1).

It's been awhile since my last post and I felt I needed to be totally honest about a few things...so let me start with that.

Actually, wait. More importantly: Let's take care of administrative stuff first, as that is the first thing I learned in Graduate School...

You may have noticed I changed the name of my blog from "Live by Happiness" to something else that has quite a different ring to it. After a long personal quest for happiness, which included interviews in foreign lands (and by that I mean conversations) and many hours of consultations with the higher power (and by that I mean meditation) I became more and more uncomfortable with the title of my blog; It just didn't resonate with me anymore.

Hold on, that brings me to an important issue of mine that I want to say something about, so, actually, let me start there: Resonate. For the past few years, on this quest for happiness, I have really decided to listen to my heart, my intuition, the things that resonate with me. This has made for quite a remarkable journey as it allows me to be my most true self and I really do appreciate that, because when I have tried to be something other than me (i.e. an intern in Finance) I found the uniform quite uncomfortable.

And so, when I came to changing the title of my blog, I began to ask myself, "well why am I really writing here?" And so, then, in an effort to be my most true self and uphold a vow to honesty that I had bamboo-d into my back a few months ago, I realized that perhaps why I started this blog is not the same reason I am writing today.

So, before I go anywhere, let me be honest about why I started this blog.

I started this blog in 2009, when I was packing up to head out to West Africa to serve as a development volunteer (or some may say "peace keeper") for the United States Peace Corps. The purpose of the blog was merely a place I could post short stories about my life to keep family and friends updated, since I was informed that my internet connection and cell service would be quite limited.

I did not, in fact, ever make it to Africa, as the Peace Corps program was deemed "unsafe" conveniently one month after I quite my job as the finance intern.

And so, the blog finally became live in 2010, when eventually some US Government Official evaluated the safety of a gang-ridden-resourcepoor-economically-and-politically-unstable-but-more-importantly-extremely-violent country to be perfect for Peace Corps and so I landed happily in El Salvador.

I did, in fact, live there happily for 2 fine years in the countryside, pooping (only when infected with parasites, of course, because otherwise I am a dainty female who frequently pedicures and rarely cusses) outdoors, playing soccer with kiddies and doing my best to speak a spanish-lingo I often tried to assimilate back into New York City (with much less success than I had with my Thai yoga pants).

It was, then, in El Salvador, albeit the gun-to-my-head experiences, that I learned the true meaning (for me) of happiness. Which I can take a minute to define, for those who did not follow allow during the pre-'Peace and Poverty' era. Happiness:

• licking sticky mango fingers with neighborhood cuties
• making tortillas with wrinkly old ladies
• bathing beneath a waterfall
• hand washing clothes with a little bicho by your side singing "mi nina bonita"
• the freedom to be whoever it is you want to be
• dirty clothes, gross toe nails, sweaty armpits
• frijoles borrachos 
• living life: feeling. experiencing. laughing. loving. crying. caring.

I made a promise one day, as I walked out my house early at 5am one morning. I'll never forget that promise because I could never really get over that ear-piercing sound of the first morning rooster. That, and the fact that I was so sick (literally) of nearly not making it to the outhouse. Anyways, the misty mountains enveloping the countryside took my breath away and I felt the world stop spinning and every cell in my body stop moving and I wanted that feeling to last forever. And it did and it did not- for that is the nonduality of life. You can't have one without the other. 

Point being, I knew I was where I was meant to be and I wanted to be just perfectly as I was in that moment forever. 

It did not matter my clothes. It did not matter my stomach infection. It did not matter what I thought I knew or what I thought I was going to do. 

The only thing that mattered was that moment. It was all I had.

So, I made a promise, that whenever I had a moment like that, I would hold on to it. If something resonated with me, it was my inner truth speaking to me, and I needed to roll with it. 

And so, I get back to one of my lesser important points of the overall point of this blog (which is that Graduate School sucks). The lesser point, is that I started this blog to share my story, and I named it Live By Happiness because I was writing about my quest for the "new" kind of happiness, which I discovered living in El Salvador.

But, as times change, so my ongoing experiments with happiness have lead me on a deeper quest. For, I came to realize that happiness is a label which, for some, is ephemeral. In fact, perhaps some do not seek happiness at all, and definitions of happiness there are many. 

I have since replaced the quest for happiness, with the quest for inner peace and wellbeing...as 'wellbeing' is a more measurable statistic that takes into account many factors of an individual's life that could, some say, create lasting happiness. While the importance and weight of each factor may vary, it is safe to say that these essential elements, namely Financial, Career, Physical Health, Social and Community engagement (Gallup), are all things that contribute to an individual's state of optimal wellbeing. 

And, so, for a person who is passionate about peace work, I started to become extremely interested in talking to individuals, to get a sense of their overall wellbeing.

This came from a very personal space.

You see, as a "white" girl from the US living in rural El Salvador, I noticed many young women talking to me as if they envied me.

And, yet, when the doors closed at the end of the night to my tiny lonely hut, I so wished to live a life much more simply as my Salvadoran neighbors. I wished to have family and friends constantly around. I longed to have the time to say "hello, how are you?" to each person I passed by on the street and actually listen to their response. I wanted to live more than just two years, without a pounding heart and without racing the clock. I actually waited for the moment that my best-Salvadoran-friend's family would curse each other (as we did quite regularly in my New York home)... And that moment never happened. 

So, why is it that these so-called "developed nations" are so revered in the statistics, in the media, in the minds of the masses? What message are we sending the world when we compare each other's "successes" by GDP and statistics that don't tell the story of our suicidal citizens? When did human feelings and experience (what some may call life)- when did those things become less important than the numbers? 

And so, while I stand by the original purpose of my blog- to share my story- to speak my mind- to create a space for thought- I also would like to open the arena to something I am quite passionate about: digging deeper into the meanings of peace and poverty. 

But that forces me to ask the question: whose peace are we talking about? Because what peace means to me, is quite different than peace for you. And, while my Peace Corps work may lead you to believe that I set foot in the world of poverty, let me tell you that the poverty I lived and experienced and felt and saw in the United States was much more extreme that the poverty I lived for two years in El Salvador.

My prior life in New York, I was living a poverty of the human soul; Sacrificing my happiness, my love, my inner talents and gifts in the name of financial gain, competition and stress. To be honest, I'm not sure how often I stopped to recognize that I was even truly alive- and is that not the greatest sin of all? Not to appreciate life? 

Between 2010-2012 I had the privilege to work alongside some of the most beautiful, humble, skillful, eloquent, grounded, fun-loving, endearing, compassionate, resource-poor people in the world in El Salvador. I learned more there than any other era of my life and I can honestly say, that almost everyday in El Salvador I took a moment to appreciate life.

So, when we think about poverty...violence... development- whose are we talking about? What do "you" know about "them", and since when can "one" define the "other"?

And, so, that brings me to my point:

Graduate School sucks (2).

Because I have to think about things like this. 

And I often find myself ending up much like this blog- right back where I started.

____________________________________
Footnotes
(1) Graduate school does not actually suck.
(2) Whose suck?

Just a Spoon Full of Oil

When Adam and Eve or the Big Bang or the primates or whoever is responsible for the creation of our human bodies decided to endow our spirits with the ability to walk through life with a vehicle of skin and bones, she/he/they also bestowed upon us a spoon filled with oil and set us before a very lengthy labyrinth. 

The creator said to us, albeit rather indirectly, take this spoon of oil with you wherever you may go. Your destiny is to reach the end of the maze, whichever way you may do so. However, please always bear with you the spoon of oil. 

And so the rules were but 2 simple ones. 

Yet, many arrive at the end of the maze with a dry spoon.

Still, many more carry a spoon filled with oil, but find themselves giving up on finding the end of the maze. 

Maybe you find yourself as 1 of these two types of people. Your weeks are set and fixed, and each day passes the same as the last. You are okay financially. You have a place to live. You have a few things in the back of your mind that you think "maybe I'll do that one day". But you've pretty much stopped wandering the maze. Your days have become rather mechanical and your spoon is dry. You were so set on those life goals- that job that would give you a good name on your resume, that higher pay-grade position that would give you just enough to get a new wardrobe, but then that wardrobe becomes a new car, and then you need a bigger house, and then you need nice furniture to fill it- do you remember what the reason was you even needed all this in the first place? Do you remember what it really is that gives you satisfaction from life? Or, has all the oil dripped off your spoon as you had your gaze fixed so blindly on the end of the maze. 

Or, maybe your are group of people #2. You are focused on that oil. You don't want to lose a drip of it because you know you need to reach the end of the maze. You need to make money, now. You need to be able to support a family one day. You need to learn a little bit more before you will be ready. Do you even know where you are going? Do you even look up once and see the sun smiling down?

I have had the privilege of living and traveling many different places in the world. I have compared cultures and have found that each one has it's gifts.

We are so lucky for all that we have achieved as a country- the US. We have such opportunity and potential here and the growth and technology is outrageous. 

Have you ever lived in a tiny-rural community in a developing nation? If you have, you have seen that most girls do not have a future. They do not have a future because it is not a reality. There are no opportunities.

No matter how much we may feel like we are struggling (and we are, oh we are. more than anywhere in the world); we have opportunity. It is part of our birth-right. Did you know that? 

"The Pursuit of Happiness"

Are you taking advantage of that pursuit?

My friends in El Salvador live in a different ring of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Many of them do not reach the circle that encompasses "Career". If they are lucky, they reach circle number 2: Family. Most, however, just try to take care of themselves- food & shelter- survival.

Do not be sad for my friends in El Salvador. Do not pity them. Do not feel bad for them.

My friends in El Salvador know what it means to live. Mostly because they do not have a choice. But I have seen them. Maybe not everyone, because every lives different.

But I have seen joyous households. I have seen smiling faces. I have been greeted on every corner. I have received hugs and felt appreciation. 

I have seen people smile at the sun, thank the Earth for a day of running water, and realize the days when they are lucky enough to have a plate of meat. 

I have seen that. I have felt that. Much more in two years in El Salvador than I have ever seen in the US. 

Say thank you for a plate of food? For the sun? For trees?

"Lol."

That's how many people may respond. 

Until the day when your appointments are booked back to back to back on a summer day and then all of a sudden you are "starving" and thoroughly enjoy gulping back an ice cold soda.

I am not here to point a finger or to condemn. I, too, am guilty.

Because these conditions of our society- these buildings that were originally created to provide shelter, have become signs of social status. These careers that were original sought after for financial stability and growth have become labels of social order. These conditions have made us blind to the path that we originally set out on. What was it that we wanted from this life? 

What is it that makes me heart beat? So that I may not only achieve my dreams, but also have other smile with me along the way. 

Put your faith back into yourself, in your core values. Put your faith in others, because many people care for you more than you know. Put your faith in the Earth, because it exists only to serve us.

Let us appreciate the rain- because it may ruin your plans, but it offers you a free car wash. 

Be grateful that you are from the US. Be proud of all that we have had and will have come to accomplish.

Just don't forget why it all started, and what makes it worth living. 

Not one person was born on this planet without a special gift.

Your gift may be dance. It may be cooking or writing. It may be a contagious smile or sparkling eyes. Your gift may be for mathematics. Your gift may be humor. It may be connecting people. It may be inspiring people through your photos- photos that create feelings and inspiration- photos that tell stories.

You may never know how deeply your gifts touch.

And the world would be a sad place if you didn't share them with us!

Every so often, check back on your spoon. See how far along you are on the maze of life and check if you are bringing your oil along with you. 

You are here for a purpose and your gifts are your service. 

Pusher-Lady

Pusher-Lady

Souls First

“Thailand, huh? Did you smoke a lot of weed there?”

It is not every day that you turn to respond to this question at the Farmer’s Market and the eyes you come to meet are on the face of a cute little wrinkley grey-haired lady holding two arms full of recyclable bagged veges.

I was chatting it up with the Japanese guy who ran a little Asian market stand last Saturday, during my favorite shopping day of the the week (local produce and pesticide-free food really gets me going).

I had just recently returned from a 2 month stint in Thailand and of course I could effortlessly relate to each and every Asian due to my exposure of 2 south-eastern countries (sarcasm). However, we did have a lot to share about the use of ginger.

Anyways, Granny chirps up, uninvited, but largely welcomed and her un-granny-like story goes like this (nothing, and I mean nothing, has been edited or altered):

Hey, you liked Thailand? I just spend a few months in SE Asia with my husband. Wow, what a place. We loved it there. Did you smoke a lot of weed? Ya know we were on the islands and we heard there was a lot of marijuana so we said, hey why not. So we asked a guy at the restaurant.

He said, “No weed. But I have mushrooms.”

Granny is totally nonchalant telling me this story in front of half of the entire neighborhood I grew up with (by the way), most of which who are wondering what exactly I am doing with my life since bouncing between El Salvador, Thailand and Costa Rica. (I do have somewhat of a vision in mind, just so you know).

Anyways, Grams (I adopted her for 20 minutes) continues:

            Mushrooms, huh?......

Well you know what? My husband and I couldn’t get our @$$es out of those seats for 9 hours after those things. We couldn’t believe it.

Ohhh, we loved it that place. My husband and I.

But, you know what? You gotta be careful at those airports. They found 1 little weed leaf in my cigarette case and they had us searched for 4 hours. I tried to blame my son (he’s young and from New York and stuff). But they had us in that room for 4 hours.

And so went my 9am Saturday morning at the Farmer’s Market. You go looking for Collard Greens and you find yourself awkwardly trying to play it cool with a 72-year old pot-smoking grandma.

Moral of the story is NOT to do drugs. I don’t think that was Gram’s intention either.

That Saturday reminded me to smile. As it reminds me this morning as I wake up before the sun, preparing for a busy day full of papers and generally not the most exciting stuff.

You never know what the day is going to bring.

You never know what life is going to give you.

You never know who you are going to meet.

I feel so blessed to have been able to meet such interesting people wherever I go. It is through these interactions that we learn the most.

I get sad when I see so many people closed off.

I get sad when I see people treat our elder’s like “old people” because those who have lived the most have the most wisdom to share with us.

I talk and write a lot about this misconception of “separation”. We are all so connected. Everything we do affects one another. Most of those effects we don’t see.

For example, sometimes I write something, from my heart. I write it on this blog just to get it off my chest. This blog is my way of making sense of this thing in my head that we call a “mind” but which nobody really knows how to define. I write it and post it and then go to sleep, without thinking it has meant anything to anyone but me. And then a few weeks later, someone tells me “wow, your message really changed my day.”

Wow, that moment really makes my heart beat. I feel like I helped someone. And, honestly, I didn’t even try. I just shared my story.

Just like Granny did last Saturday. I don’t think she’ll ever even know that. (unless I stalk her down at the market this Saturday- which is highly possible).

What you do affects people. Whether you want it to or not.

We are not zombies. Maybe some of you are, but in that case, I don’t think you read blogs.

We have bodies, but we don’t walk aimlessly.

We are souls first, and humans second.

So maybe when you go out today, maybe you train your eyes to see beyond the crisp blue-business suits…beyond the plastic glove-wearing deli-man….beyond the smelly-loud begging-voice on the subway.

Maybe you see past the uniforms and past the conditions that brought these beings to their current state.

Maybe you can, instead, see the souls.

The beating hearts that we all share, and the desire for love and laughter.

It’s not so hard really.

And it’s not such a bad way to live.

Feeling connected, knowing what you do matters, has a special way of making you feel important in the world. Knowing that your words or your smile may be carried along as inspiration in the day of another has a special way of making you think more consciously about your day-to-day decisions. Feeling connected has a special way of making you care- bringing peace to others and peace to you.

It creates smiles and many times, laughter, which innately, we look to share with others. After all, what is the first thing you want to do when you have good news? Share it with someone. Happiness means little if it can’t be shared.

And, hey, every now and again you may run into a 72-year old pusher-lady. 

__________________________________________________

P.S. If you don't know the song, get with it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCDAfa-NI-M