Press play

Sometimes you want to share emotions with others. And it’s not always possible to convey what one feels. The other day I felt such joy and tried to share this with someone who was so down. I felt it in turn brought me down and robbed me from my happiness I momentarily had. Instead of dwelling on it, I let it go and later reached out to that person again but this time simply said I wanted him to try and practice singing with me in the future. Our conversation and mood shifted so quickly, and I was once again able to retain that glee until the next morning. Those small moments of being content are so precious , and we must guard that with our hearts. Perhaps we should be cautious of who we allow in that time of pocket that emotion with care to bring out for another time to dwell in. It’s always available for you to revisit . Simply take that memory out of your library and press play .image.jpeg


By Danna Faulds
There is no controlling life.
Try corralling a lightning bolt,
containing a tornado. Dam a
stream and it will create a new
channel. Resist, and the tide
will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry
you to higher ground. The only
safety lies in letting it all in –
the wild and the weak; fear,
fantasies, failures and success.
When loss rips off the doors of
the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice
becomes simply bearing the truth.
In the choice to let go of your
known way of being, the whole
world is revealed to your new eyes.image


Luck of the Irish


There are certain countries that pull at me. Each time I visit I know will not be the last. Ireland is one of them. I am generally drawn to beach towns, pure warm relaxation. But for reason there is something about the hospitality of the Irish that touches your heart . I can’t pinpoint it. Perhaps it’s the beautiful words of the famous writers who were born and bred here : james Joyce , WB yeats, and Oscar Wilde to name a few. Maybe it’s the smile most of the people engage in , or the phrase “that’s grand,” which is endearing . It could be the playful self deprecating humour they have, or the surprise that every Irish person is a performer . The land is green , leprechauns originate here, and somehow the locals are proud about where they stem from. I guess it doesn’t matter why I feel drawn to here , but to simply notice it. I heard today someone describing how she felt, and she said she felt like Ireland …welcoming, cheerful, and reflective

gift in the performance


Reflecting on how I can focus less on sharing on social media but sharing on what’s touched me on here. I realise the most important thing we can give to others is our authentic selves. The beauty I appreciate when I travel is simply observing . Although it is quite touristy, I appreciate hearing the local musicians, dancers, and street performers. My musician therapist friend Gretchen who is an ultimate New Yorker mentioned once hoe grateful she was for performers on subways because they make people happy. Through choosing to harness their voice and bodies, they themselves become instruments of energy and passion that is shared with others. When I travel and I actually see traditional performances , how moving it is to witness tradition and history being translated for you ! So often we pass by them quickly , feeling guilted into giving a tip. But next time observe , feel what’s being shared , and show your gratitude .

Cronut connections

I am On a three hour layover from a meditation retreat in Wicklow , en route via Dublin before back to the UK. I decided to return to the same haunts I just visited one week prior , the cafe I frequented , the shops I visited, and parks I returned to. I don’t know why, perhaps a sense of familiarity, ease , or something more. When I ordered my first Cronut and cappaccino at a cafe, the barista said “did you give me a card earlier this week?” She explained she hadn’t visited the site yet but kept the card. This is why I come back to the same places…to feel a sense of connection and community in a city where I only stayed one night the week prior. To feel a sense of familiarity in this world in an unknown country is so comforting. We so often feel alone, but how precious it is to have simply a stranger acknowledge they remember . I feel guilty as I haven’t been handing the cards out as frequently or writing , but it’s a shift I am vowing to make. Someone today noted three beautiful questions to reflect to…
1. Who is the most important person?
2. When is the most important time?
3. What is the most important thing to do?

Think about it, the answers are below :

1. Who is the most important person? The person you are with
2. When is the most important time? Now
3. What is the most important thing to do?

Enjoy and share 🙂image.jpeg

Poetry please !


imageI was so moved by an impromptu talent show that arose last night . It was in Ireland at a mindfulness conference filled with mental health therapists , yoga instructors , neuroscientists and who knows what else. I wasn’t expecting much from the performances , and what was revealed was beautiful poetry from oneself , ancestors, or beloved famous poets such as rumi . There were Irish dancers , folk singers, a harpist, new age singers , storytellers, and even a one man improv show! 91 people from 86 countries. I left wishing I had a talent to share , and later went into my room to attempt and practice songs for future karaoke performances. I used to write poetry but all was about unrequited love. It inspired me to branch outward and instead of focusing on my specific pain , what’s universal . In the meantime please enjoy this poem that is one of my favourites :

The Invitation

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.




image.jpegIt was low season, mid February, and rainy. After a two hour ride from Seville, 90 minute bus ride from faro, and a short taxi ride in lagoa, We arrived in the town of carvoeiro in the south of Portugal. You can imagine my disappointment that after this extended journey, our room was not yet ready. Another 90 minutes pass, as we wait in the time share lobby. Back aches, irritability, and boredom set in. What are we going to do here? A majority of the stores and restaurants are closed. I am almost finished with reading the second book on this 4 day trip, and I have nothing to do. I sleep early, upon rising, a quiet sense of gratitude arises.

All I have is stillness .

Stillness allows space for your thoughts to arise, longer, and deepen.

I realize I have not truly allowed myself stillness the past six months,with traveling, hosting, working, and caring for my injured dog. But in this small Portuguese fishing village, I can allow silence to arise .

My mind can be decluttered, to allow appreciation of the gifts the day is bringing me. The sound of the wind hitting the palm trees, sparkles of sun that peak from the clouds, and momentarily a different pace of life (not contingent on alarms, deadlines, and commutes ).

How can stillness be revealed into your life today? How may this impact you and those around you?

“Be still. Stillness reveals the secrets of eternity.”-Lao Tzu