So as I took my walk in the woods, I thought about Wilber’s words, and what it means to be “not-two.” My dog and I passed a corn field, now cut down, with dry spent cobs littered about. What popped into my mind was: “This field is my body too.”

Trauma comes to all of us, and its consequences can be terrible. That’s the truth and the bad news. The good news is that all of us can use tools of self-awareness and self-care to heal our trauma and, indeed, to become healthier and more whole than we’ve ever been.

“Oneness is not just a spiritual platitude. It is a belief, a core principle and life-defining orientation that we are all interconnected. This ‘we’ is not restricted to just humanity. The ‘we’ includes all living things.” Understand that we are all each other’s consequences. Each of us, individually, impacts the whole. Choose kindness.

In February, the month most associated with love, now more than ever with Covid numbers rising daily, I invite you to lean into radical, live out loud love. Not the “significant other” love, I trust you to your own devices and/or preferences there. I speak specifically of love of self, welcoming compassion, and a do no harm approach to yourself.

Can you take a moment to recall the memorable remnants that live on in your heart from the precious time spent with your loved ones who are no longer with you - your ancestors? How can you honor and keep those remnants alive today?

The political climate, pandemic, and endless assaults against people of color made it imperative that I learn more about health equity, social justice, and anti-racism. But what good is reading if it doesn’t encourage action?

RAIN is a mindfulness tool that creates space between situations, either fantasy or real, allowing relief from obsessive thinking and attachment to outcomes.

I am just beginning to climb out of a state of unrelenting hopelessness. Every day COVID numbers escalating, climate change now a global crisis, the fires out west destroying acres and acres of precious trees and wildlife, floods destroying homes and whole towns….not to mention all the serious social and political issues that are present…heaping more and more powerlessness and hopelessness on my heavy heart.

We all have dreams, hopes, aspirations, preferences. They help sustain life and motivate us to thrive despite “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” as Shakespeare observed. I have noticed, however, that when I consciously or unconsciously transform these desires into concrete expectations, suffering often arises - especially when those expectations prove to be unrealistic.

If I can observe myself with detachment from that “wisdom center” that is all-loving and trusting, I can then start “accepting” (samtosha) myself, just as I am, finding more comfort inside my own skin. I can apply it to every relationship I have, including teaching, by offering presence, deep listening and compassion, creating a “sacred safe space” that leads to a synergetic dance of mutual trust and connection with my students.

“Making time for rest can recharge your ability to deal with commitments, relationships and impact your overall health. This is because your mind and body are intrinsically connected. When you take the time to sit and rest even for a few minutes a day, you are allowing your body's cells to recharge (this is why meditation is so powerful). Having a simple bath or shower with a few controlled breaths can be enough to re-infuse your inner light.” Jessica Sepel, Mindbodygreen.

“The practice of mindfulness involves finding, recognizing, and making use of that in us which is already okay, already beautiful, already whole by virtue of our being human.” - Kabat-Zinn

‘Your past moments of love and connection make you lastingly wiser.’ - Dr Barbara Fredrickson

‘Love, love, love. Love is all you need.’ - The Beatles

If freedom does not come from the world, perhaps it comes from your body, mind, and soul in spite of the constraints of the world? How does one tap into their celestial nature in spite of this tenuous earthly experience? Does it require more meditation? More reading? More hikes…alone?

The answer may not be found in doing more. It may very well reside in doing less.

Despite the hours of repetitive liturgy that is at the heart of Jewish worship, I am not much for formal prayer. This is true for three reasons: I don’t believe in the God to whom these prayers are addressed; 2) I find the words of the prayers parochial, patriarchal, and largely irrelevant to my life; and 3) I find reading aloud in community boring: no matter how beautiful the words may be, reading them in unison (or worse responsively) robs them of all value. Given this, it should be no surprise that I rarely attend formal Jewish worship services. This was true before Covid-19 and is all the more true when services are conducted via Zoom where you can see that the vast majority of people on–line are not paying any attention at all.

While witnessing unprecedented sickness, social unrest and grief, I’ve also seen a great deal of generosity, heroic acts of compassion and whole hearted sharing that perhaps would not have happened had times been milder. I always say that there are two sides to every coin. We do ourselves a disservice by only focusing on the negatives of this year because we deny ourselves deeper insight about experiences that stretched and groomed us for the better.

One lesson I’ve learned is how even the briefest of mindfulness practices can provide needed self-care in those moments when we’re feeling activated by the various stressors that we all find ourselves facing. Taking as little as five to ten minutes, to deepen the breath as we just practiced, to stretch, to briefly scan our bodies with the simple intention to soften, let go, and release… all of these mindful practices can make a surprisingly huge difference in reducing our stress.

Mercy’s bridge rests on the solid foundations of human evolutionary resilience, brain neuroplasticity, and spiritual awakening. Our species’ wiring for compassion and the desire to eliminate our racialized suffering provide the real potential for our social imagination to grow.

In July, I visited Minidoka National Historic Site, a windswept, barren, sage-strewn high desert area in south central Idaho. My friend and I were the only people on the self-guided tour, and as we progressed, the camp came to life in our imaginations. Children swam in the small pool created from a canal/irrigation ditch, men and women hauled baskets of potatoes from adjacent fields to store in an underground building (built by them), boys practiced baseball on a large field and rubbed the dust out of their eyes, women arranged home-grown flowers or painted.