Oftentimes when I hear teachers speak in poetic language, I long to immerse myself in their presence. I wish I too could quote lines from poems with ease. I was curious how these magnetic speakers do this. Do they recite poetry on a daily basis? Do they memorize lines for speeches they can access with ease? Or are they just blessed to have the poetic gene in their bodies?
Yet I began to understand that the essence of poetry is noticing the small things. Simply noticing.
It’s putting out a hummingbird feeder, stopping what I’m doing when I see one fly by in the corner of my eye, and watching hummingbirds land to take refuge in their sweet meal.
It’s wiping the folds of my French bulldog’s face after coming in from a walk in silence so I can be totally present.
It’s finding comfort in a soft cozy yellow blanket I’ve had for years, while I sit on my couch and read, as my dog snores at my feet.
It’s delicious satisfaction after eating a Swiss piece of chocolate paired with coffee.
It’s taking time to notice the changing hues of the sky during the sunset each night from my balcony, which on a clear night also offers the cinematic view of the Santa Monica mountains.
Paying attention is poetry. And it’s accessible to us all. What poetry is arising with you today?
I started out wanting to write great poems, then wanting to discover true poems. Now, I want to be the poem.
Yesterday was the first day I gave out Lullaby cards. I recently ordered them, but was dissatisfied. They were the first time I brought them with me, although they didn’t turn out exactly like I wanted. The font on the back was too dark to truly see the Joseph Campbell quote in it’s entirety. But if I kept waiting for the perfect moment to arise, and have the energy to reprint them, it may never happen. And so I brought the cards with me. A child wanted to pet Lullaby, his father looked at me querying me if it was okay for him to pet her. I nodded, and after some time offered the cards to him and his siblings as he pet Lullaby during the sunset. Another adult onlooker having a picnic dinner wanted her own Lullaby card, and so I shared the love.
This is the smallest act of kindness you can do to humanity. Offering a momentary tangible piece of paper that can bring a smile. And it can do so much, it can be contagious. Over the past year, I had dealt with the grief of losing my 16 year old chug Bella, and prior to that 15 year old English bulldog Puzo. I was literally running out of cards and couldn’t therefore give them out as freely, but also during grief it can be difficult to offer more. I didn’t have it in me to make new cards with their image on it, since they were no longer on this earth. Yet, with the arrival of Lullaby, things changed. She could be on one side, while they could greet strangers on the other.
And now with Lullaby we are doing this act of kindness again. She does this automatically as she greets everyone with joy. As I write this, I sit in a coffee shop, she’s in a stroller gazing at new customers and the song “send me an angel” plays in the background. This is poignant, as I am in a coffee shop I used to frequent with Bella. We stopped in the neighborhood to drop off donations to the rescue I got Lullaby from. In my old neighborhood, I walked Lullaby along the same path I used to frequent after work, along a marina. We sat in the same spot that Bella would take in the sun. There were some tears shed, but also gratitude to be here with her.
Lullaby has her struggles, she’s had her fourth seizure in the past two months. And as we are sorting this out, have her on medication, she still is full of love every other moment of the day. I hope this blog reminds you that it doesn’t take much to share kindness with a stranger. It only takes a smile.
Years ago I created this blog to accompany kindness quotes I shared on cards I distributed with my two previous dogs’ images on them: Puzo and Bella. After Bella’s death last year, my process of giving away the cards has minimized and I admit I am running out of the hundreds of cards I had purchased. It’s been awhile I have written, with an additional move, new job, and now new dog.
Meet Lullaby.
Lullaby is a five year old Frug (french bulldog /pug mix), who I got as a rescue from Legacy of Love in Ventura. She is believed to be 5, but exerts puppy energy. Her story is like many other french bulldog mamas. What we know is she was used for breeding, and was brought to the shelter for an emergency c-section. All puppies died, and her owners abandoned her due to the high vet bill. Although they made money off of her breeding, they couldn’t pay for her necessary surgery. After one week of healing in the shelter, she was brought to the rescue, and the following week I adopted her.
Lullaby was the name the rescue gave her, but I opted to keep it. There was a preciousness to this word, a gentle song sung to children as they sleep. And she is living into the essence of the word.
Despite the tragedies and trauma she experienced, she seems to be the most joyful soul. She greets everyone with exuberance, love, and curiosity. It doesn’t matter if they are a fellow dog or human, she wants to say hello with a booty shake and excited energy. She still doesn’t understand that not everyone wants to say hello. My friend Isabella nicknamed her Kimmy Schmidt, from the the Netflix show Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. This lead character also went through tragedy, but had a persistent smile , curiosity to the world, and an extraordinary amount of resilience.
Our two months together have been a journey, and I learn more about her on a daily basis. The first several days, she would lay her head on my hip or nuzzle her nose by my neck. It was as if she held me in place, not wanting me to leave. With time, she slowly gained independence. My friend Lisa encouraged me to do a ritual of healing from the traumas for Lullaby shortly after I got her, which intentionally coincided with Mother’s Day. Lullaby has had several seizures in these two months, and is now on medication. I look at her, unaware of what she has gone through but in awe of the happiness she exudes with every walk she takes. For those that are dog people, I notice they smile on the street as she walks by, ask to pet her, and give her blessings for this next part of her life.
She reminds me we always have a choice in how we want to engage with the world. We don’t have to be victims of our circumstances. In the midst of suffering, we can find glimmers of joy, and capacity to share kindness.
I hope one day you have the opportunity to meet Lullaby. Or perhaps you have your own furry friend who reminds you to be present and kind.
Today, I opted to walk towards the beach for my morning journaling. This is a practice I’ve been doing on my days off, while living a five minute stroll downhill from Avila Beach. The sun was just about to rise over the cliffs. As I walked in the distance, I saw something large moving. It takes practice and a keen eye to watch areas for movement, and it’s easy to be fooled. It could be simply a larger bird bathing, yesterday I was at a loss, and thought I saw an animal playing with a ball in the distance. It was a human swimming with a bright orange vest. But today, my eyes stared into the horizon. As I walked closer, I saw in the water a dolphin, swimming solo towards the sunrise. I watched with awe and wonder. How grateful I was to witness it. Another passerby noted, “it’s beautiful isn’t it?” I pointed out the dolphin I just saw, he informed me he had a seen a group of 20-30 seals that just swam by.
I was just about to sit on the cement steps looking onto the pier, when I saw something moving beyond me. A woman was looking through a telescope at this little being, and as she walked by me she smiled and was wearing an “awe of god” shirt. The universe was definitely speaking to me. I walked onto the pier and saw a little otter down below, cleaning himself, having fun rolling in circles in the water. The sun glistened like golden flecks in the water as I stared at him with joy. He seemed to notice me and I’d like to think he was putting on a show. On the other end of the pier, I saw something move at the corner of my eye, but did not stay above water for too long. I caught a glimpse of a seal.
And although I went to the beach to journal, I spent an hour being mesmerized by what was in my presence… The morning sunrise served as the backdrop for the dolphin, seal, and otter, and the variety of birds that were greeting my morning. Sometimes life redirects us to just be and witness the magic that lies before us. But we have to be present to observe this.
This week, I am squeezing a visit with my grandmother. She’s been such a powerhouse for much of my life, the top prescribing psychiatrist in Philly for quite some time. She owned a practice for decades, with hundreds of employees and numerous buildings. The past several years have brought about retirement and a bit of dementia. It’s been gradual, having long term memory, but lapsing in short term memory.
Mama Minda is what I call her, as she never wanted to be called grandma. She was quite young when she became a grandmother with me, I never knew any different. I accepted it, and it stuck. She helped pay for my living as I went to graduate school in psychology, and my first year of tuition. For a brief year after I got my doctorate, I lived and worked with her. I witnessed her wearing powerhouse suite blazers that were bright or filled with bold springtime flowers and heels, bedazzled herself with jewelry.
Depsite her dementia progressing, she still wears bling jewelry. The gold glistens as she walks with a cane, or holding onto your arm. Her time sitting across from patients, listening to their symptoms, now consist of crocheting scarves. She once led meetings and had pharmaceutical reps following her from one building to another offering expansive meals for staff members, I now had to spoon feed her lunch, or else she wouldn’t eat. There’s a sense of appreciation, as she feels this is a loving act and it is. We age, dynamics change.
In the two hours I spent with her, she asked me questions 30-50 times. I didn’t mind responding, as it was a reminder to practice patience. It also served as exposure therapy to talk about my recent break up? Our conversations went like this:
Grandma Me
How old are you now? 20? 30? 40? 46
Where are you living? California
Where in California? Avila Beach
Do you have a boyfriend? We broke up
Why? Not a good match
Was he American? Or Filipino? American
I’ll pray for you so you will find a Thank you
Good match, get married,
And have kids
And repeat
It’s one way to get over a break up… and I know her repetitive questions are a way to ensure I am “happy”, that I am taken care of. All the boxes are checked off for what brought about happiness in her era, and she wouldn’t have to worry about me. Or she could partake in any way to assist, by praying or attempting to play matchmaker.
I am not sure how many years we have together, but I will make the most of it. And will be happy to respond to whatever questions she asks, and know they come from a space of love. It’s a role reversal, and I’m happy to reciprocate.
Earlier this year, my friend Lisa bought for my birthday a special necklace. Yet prior to putting it on my neck, she encouraged me to have a ceremony surrounding it. Because it wasn’t just any necklace. The script was written in the language that pre-dates the Filipino language of Tagalog, before colonization Babayin. The word is powerful: FREEDOM.
Although my birthday was months ago, I have not felt the time was right to wear it. I tried a ceremony on the afternoon of a full moon last month. I walked five minutes from my home to the sand, and into the ocean, and held this in my hand thinking of intentions. But it wasn’t time to wear it yet, and I let time pass.
Yet something shifted this month. It was the day after I paid off my credit cards (which had built up after moving back to America). There was a sense of freedom that emerged: financial freedom. And I knew it was time to do a ceremony for the necklace and finally wear it.
Yesterday morning, I walked towards the beach, but this time I stopped and saw mini labyrinth lay before me. It was in the shape of a snake, a reminder of transformation lay before me. I placed my necklace in the center, along with palo santo and a lighter. I slowly walked toward the center of the snake’s mouth, and when I reached it I picked up these items and cleansed the necklace. Now was the time to place it on my neck.
And maybe somehow a shift was made.
Today is the second day I am wearing the necklace, a stranger in line at the coffee shop gave me a compliment to my necklace. She queried if it was in Hebrew, and what it meant. I told her it was “Freedom” in the Filipino script language before colonization. She found it intriguing, and shared it with her husband next to her.
There was power in sharing the story, in simply telling this stranger about my necklace. It serves as a reminder there is intentional choice and strength in what we wear and the narrative we share behind that. Everyday is an opportunity to make a statement in what we stand for.
As I go through my belongings and pack for yet another move, I found this tin box that says “Make your own magic.” Inside exists a little bit of old popcorn. No, they are not the buttered old kernels that get stuck in your teeth. This popcorn is something else.
Years ago, I attended a workshop led by the infamous author, screenwriter, and teacher Julia Cameron. She was leading an immersive training on one of her most notable projects: The Artist Way. This event focused on how one can reconnect or jumpstart their creativity. There are writing exercises, self-reflective activities, and within a group one can expect sharing. When this is taught in a group, one thing she had us do was share popcorn. Popcorn are little wishes, blessings, or compliments one offers other members of the group. She used the metaphor of popcorn, because these statements are quick, joyful, spontaneous, and delicious. Even if one is a stranger, you must write a positive fortune for this individual. You can be as creative as you like.
The 12 Week Artist Way is a project I not only finished, but led many groups over the years. And sometimes I bring out the popcorn exercise. In this little tin box, I’ve kept some of these popcorns I have received. I know if I am feeling down, I can go into this box.
One I received said: “Your radiate a warmth and calm energy, that feels like it’s about to have a breakthrough.” Another said “Your kind and open heart will always guide you, as your strong connection to your spiritual center. Let this be the sole guide for your life and never ever let this go for anything or anyone.”
It’s interesting the things we choose to keep over the years. I move frequently, and have donated, discarded, or upcycled many things. This little popcorn box is still quite special to me. I hope you have something like this among your precious belongings.
Walking on Sunset Boulevard in Silverlake with a group of friends on Saturday, a stranger approached me and said “you need new shoes.” I was surprised at her comment. We had just finished a delightful meal at a local Thai establishment, after sharing our updated goals for the year and ways we would be accountable to each other. I opted to wear a pair of white sandals that were made by Minnesota Moccasin company, that had turquoise embellishments. These were sandals I loved in theory but I wasn’t ready to let go of them. I wanted to “wear them to the ground,” to know I got the full use out of them.
“They are not fitting right on you. You need new shoes. I need new shoes too.” My friends looked at her with a sense of curiosity in their faces, as she walked by. All were wondering was she was trying to sell me shoes? This was Sunset Boulevard after all. As she strolled by us, another woman began stating out loud with her dog “We are on Sunset on a Saturday night.” Was she livestreaming on a social media site? Nope, she was just in the midst of a psychotic episode.
As we reflected on both of these two women juxtaposed to each other, we walked up a little hill. A helicopter circled around us. My friend opened up her neighbor app, which stated an armed individual was nearby. We didn’t know what to do, keep walking, try to hide? “Another night in Los Angeles,” one of my friends shared. Was this a regular night? A stranger telling you to get new shoes, a psychotic woman, a helicopter police chase, armed gunmen, and processing goals for one’s life with friends at a delicious restaurant. Perhaps it was a typical day. It was a mixture of wonder, appreciation, fear, confusion, and joy. This is life in today’s world, and it was playing out in our small atmosphere.
“You need new shoes.” Despite all that happened, this was the comment that stayed with me for the rest of the weekend. Perhaps this woman was right. Why was I holding onto old shoes trying to get the most use out of them? The fact was the more I used these particular shoes, the less I could use all the other shoes in my closet. I had more than enough shoes, I didn’t need new ones, I just needed to get rid of these. And so later in the week, I did just that. I not only got rid of this particular pair of shoes, but three other ones that were waiting to be given away. I did it with pleasure, as I offered up space for me to see what I actually own and take joy in using my other belongings.
This stranger’s comment served as a current lesson in my life. How often do we take wisdom from strangers or a passerby’s comments? There are textures to conversations, interpretations we can make from metaphorical statements. I wasn’t just getting rid of shoes, I was getting rid of that which I have overgrown and that which doesn’t serve me. I was creating space in my life to welcome in the beauty that already exists.
I woke up this morning having a dream that my mother and I had an argument about time. I felt she was wasting it, being slow in her movements, when we had a long road trip to get to. She is retired and luxuriates in time, I felt I didn’t have enough of it. In the dream, I wanted to rush her to and make the most of it.
This dream made sense at this particular moment, it was the evening the clocks sprung forward.
I woke up earlier than my roommates and was not clear of time. We were at a retreat center with limited cell service and wifi in the cabins. It was completely dark outside, I looked at my phone and wondered was it really 545 am? Would my cell phone change without service? Could I trust time, feeling as if I didn’t have enough?
But the truth is (at least for me on retreats) time stretches and expands while one is away from her everyday demands. And so what is time?
Time’s been on my mind, as I have clients in other countries at the moment, where the time does not change. The past week trying to coordinate schedules blew my mind, what time tomorrow would it be for them when we spoke today for me? As I reflect on time, I want a different job so I can have more time off, because as a full time salaried employee someone controls the amount of time I can use leisurely and who determines how my sick time shall be used, even if I want to focus more on wellness. I long for time abundance rather than time scarcity.
I woke up with a sore throat and thought to make better use of my morning. Instead of worrying about time, I would do something with it.
I opted to walk to the lounge area and have some tea, another retreat attendee noted how early I was up, and he was the same. He continued to compare this time, to time back home. Another woman asked for the time, and a man stated the time was near sunset. He didn’t know because he had pre-coffee brain. Time was on all of our minds.
At the moment, I could luxuriate in it. And I did
Initially as I walked towards the baths at 6ish I saw tiny paw prints on the staircase. I wasn’t sure what animal may be joining me in the open baths, would it just be me and a racoon? A human couple left the baths, I saw no racoons, and felt at ease as I slid into the thermal baths. At Esalen, the baths are clothing optional. In the darkness of the early day or evening, I do not mind being nude alone in the healing waters, listening to the ocean hit the rocks below. And here time felt expansive.
I sit in front of a tree overlooking a mountain, facing the direction of where the sun will be rising from, having a warm cup of coffee before yoga class begins. At another point of my busy life, I may say that I beat time. I was so productive before the sun said hello. But time is not a thing to be beat. It’s something to be in partnership with, flow with.
There’s a patter on the roof, I witness two racoons scoping out the landscape during their last moments of nocturnal activities. Slowly they creep and disappear into the tree that I am observing. Perhaps these were the racoons whose footprints I observed in the baths. Perhaps we are on the same schedule. They do not adhere to clocks and watches, but the movement of the sun and moon. Yet, here we are together making the most of the time we have today.
My canine companion is turning 16 years old this month. Often after people ask me about her breed and name, I am quick to also respond with her age. As I mouth the words 16, often people are impressed. They may share how old their dogs are, or if they had an elder dog, share stories of the age their dogs lived to. And there’s a moment of connection, we bond over being parents of elderly dogs.
Over the past 2 ½ years, after Puzo (my English Bulldog) died of 15 years, Bella had a difficult time adjusting. Her whole time in this world included him being in it. It was then she began howling if I left the room, because she was alone with no one in her pack. At the time we were living in Paris, and as we both grieved his loss, we would walk two long blocks to the Eiffel Tower to seek comfort in the park and the spectacular beauty of this site.
She began going with me more on first dates, time with friends, mini vacations. We drove from France to Spain, as she sat in my mother’s lap for the entire 17 hour trip. Over time, her age began showing, she no longer could jump on the couch as she used to. She would tire on our walks, and so I would carry her. People ask me often why not take a stroller, but I think she enjoys lying like a baby in my arms, half asleep, taking in the sun.
Since moving back to America this year, Bella has surprised me. She has learned to swim, learned to play a new game with treats, and taken her first selfie. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Bella is proof.
(Bella’s First Selfie)
This week, I had leftovers from a New Years Eve meal: Filet Mignon. She devoured pieces of it over a span of three days. Today, my friend and I went to the fancy Rosewood Miramar in Montecito. I served Bella bits of cerviche. Yes, she is spoiled, but doesn’t a 16 year old deserve this?
Two women visiting from out of state chatted with us as we left the outdoor restaurant. They noticed the satisfaction in Bella’s face. My friend was quick to offer that Bella has had a good life, the best life. And I couldn’t agree more. 16 years ago I found her stray in Santa Barbara county, and she joined me as we moved to Hawaii, LA, England, Paris, Spain, and back to California. People often ask where did she enjoy the best, but where she loves most I realize is anywhere that I am with more time off, and moments to sleep in the sun.
With that I offer a Cheers to Bella- my 16 year old chug (or puguaua) bundle of joy. And if you have a dog too, cheers to your companion and witness to the journey of your life
It Only Takes A Smile 