Thank you, Tesa, for sharing this very beautiful tribute to your mother. It shines with the light of her Being as well as with yours. I know I will return to it again and again for there is so much wisdom woven throughout.

I want to be open — as wide as the ocean and the sky above it. To allow everything in and to flow with it like water, like wind. To live as part of the whole, as the whole. And to love it all.

Something else entirely. My life is a song that I make up as I go along. Sometimes it is so low and slow that I can’t hear myself singing it and neither can anyone else. But then a river, a tree, or a whale in the sea will sing it back to me.

People who set aside green space, who protect mature forests. People who plant trees. People (like Louie Schwartzberg — see today’s blog post “Fantastic Fungi”) who use their gifts of speaking, writing, photographing, etc. to show us the interconnectedness of all life here on earth and how we as humans must live in a way so that mother nature can regenerate. I pass on the gift by trying to live more and more in that way.

Deep breathing makes me hopeful. Dum spiro spero (while I breathe, I hope).

Thank you for this hopeful article offered here in honor of U.S. Memorial Day.. I am immensely grateful that my father returned home from Vietnam so long ago. He is sometimes haunted by the memory of friends whose children were not so fortunate. It is wonderful that the powerfully healing tools of yoga, including gratitude meditation, are more and more available to military veterans. Thank you for your life-giving work.

The good I’m seeing right now? The images and words that make up this website. What I’m feeling is deep gratitude for all the care (and talent shared) that goes into this daily online offering. Thank you, demo.gratefulness.org team!

The miracle of songbirds having returned thousands of miles from their wintering grounds to summer in this fragmented wood patch…. right now I celebrate the ovenbird, the wood thrush, the red-eyed vireo, the blue-gray gnatcatcher, and the yellow-billed cuckoo. In the heavy silence just before a thunderstorm, they sing.

Thank you, Julie, for this. I see you and also myself. Namaste.

Thank you for your comment, Antionette.

Yes to those promises of growth. Thank you for reminding me.

Welcome, Kelly 🙂 I’m wishing you, too, a full and speedy recovery.

Good morning, Kevin. I add my voice to the many who are wishing you a full and speedy recovery.

Miracles all, and One. Beautiful reflection, thank you.

Dear Aine, I am also living with Late Stage Lyme and I find your recent sharings on this subject here so helpful. Thank you for your openness. It calls for vulnerability, which is a new practice and a distinct challenge for me.

Ahhhh! I think your poem speaks beautifully to the Truth that — like the buds “so crisp and distinct” — each and every one of us is unique. Thank you for sharing your gift.

Thank you, Carol, for sharing your lovely poem. That is the essence, “Become the peace I seek. Share it with all I meet.”

Thank you, KC, for your thoughtful response. It helps me. Yes, that’s it! What I was trying to get at in the end, “leaving the results to the Great Mystery.”