Acupuncturists Without Borders Travels to the Heart of World Issues

This article was originally published in Acupuncture Today in April, 2017.

A child plays at Ritsona Refugee Camp in Greece.

If I once believed in fairytales, the dreamy blue Greek Islands was certainly one of them.

At the beginning of 2016 I had no idea what was in store for me, but I was looking forward to a personal retreat on the Greek Island of Paros; a graduation gift to myself after 22 years of motherhood, and 4+ years of Chinese medicine school.  That first trip to Greece really was a dream come true.  I saw with my own eyes that the water and sky are indeed THAT vast and THAT astonishingly blue; and I experienced that the Greek people are indeed uncommonly outgoing, warm, and joyful.  

But even in that first breathtaking and dream-fulfilling trip to Paros, Santorini, and Athens, the signs of trouble in Greece were undeniable.  Greeks make it their business to ensure that the international crisis occurring within their borders does not detract from the enchanting experience meant for tourists - for those who choose not to wander beyond designated tourist havens.  Just outside of these beautiful destination areas, however – the back of the house, you might say – there is an eerie emptiness; abandoned real estate, barren storefronts, and uncomfortably quiet, over-grown and run-down villages.  

While studying Traditional Chinese Medicine, I followed and admired the work of Acupuncturists Without Borders (AWB) and felt clear that community style acupuncture and not-for-profit relief work would be in my future.  Admittedly a bit of a starry-eyed idealist, I knew from the get-go that our ancient, holistic, energetic and economically practical medicine held extraordinary potential to heal some of the deepest wounds of our troubled modern world.  It seemed serendipitous, when I graduated from TCM school and my life circumstances relocated me to Europe, that AWB was mobilizing its throng of activist-healers to address the refugee crisis in Greece.  

I reached out and dove in.  I was soon to learn that visiting Greece as a relief worker is a vastly different experience than that of a tourist.  

The Greeks, grappling with extreme poverty, unemployment, and political unrest, are host to an estimated 62,000 displaced people who have navigated treacherous crossing from the Middle East, by land or on foot, to arrive within the relative safety of Europe’s borders. They are dispersed among 50-some-odd refugee camps, barred from migrating to other European countries due to border closings.  It is anticipated that some will be deported back to their countries of origin, and could face detention or death. The lucky ones may receive legal asylum in Greece, even though the economy cannot support them.  These gruesome facts notwithstanding, I have been astonished by the generosity and concern of the Greeks I’ve met, who have transcended their own adversity to provide what relief they can.  

The first day I arrived in a refugee camp with AWB, our small team of acupuncturists carrying our mobile clinic neatly stashed in our backpacks, what I saw, felt, and sensed made me feel small.   What can a few of us do, really, to make even a tiny dent in the profound suffering we are witnessing?  A message scratched on a wall in one of the camps spoke volumes:  “We are not animals.”  In a moment we had gained an education about the world, and realities not like our own. 

The conditions we encounter in refugee camps are unpredictable, at best, and challenge us to employ skills we’ve cultivated in our personal meditation and Qi Gong practices.  Acutely aware that we are standing in the heart of catastrophic human suffering, we endeavor to remain composed amid chaos, clear in our purpose, and present to our patients’ needs.  It is essential that we are able to think on our feet, anticipate and function as a team, and deliver our medicine with steady and skillful hands.   

Our team of healers collaborates with camp volunteers to identify space where we can set up our clinic.  Circumstances are reliably less than ideal, and inconsistent.  It’s often too cold or too hot, dirty, and lighting may be poor.  We use whatever supplies, furnishings or materials we can get our hands on to set up our clean field and make the floor comfortable for our patients.   We spend time walking around the camp, introducing ourselves, attempting to communicate with residents about our services with signs printed in Arabic and Farsi.  We are excited and relieved when we meet residents who speak English and agree to help interpret for us in the clinic.  
 
The simple yet potent standardized auricular acupuncture protocol we use in AWB field clinics is the NADA (National Acupuncture Detoxification Association) five-needle protocol, which was developed to support recovery from addiction.  On their website, AWB explains that “the use of acupuncture for drug addiction led to its use for the prevention and treatment of trauma. Research in the past decade has shown that acupuncture is a helpful somatic therapy that rebalances the brain after significant stress, as well as the nervous and hormonal systems. Acupuncture treatment, especially shortly after exposure to traumatic events, can help prevent the development of post-traumatic stress (PTS). With more extended treatment, acupuncture can also restore resiliency for those who suffer from long-term PTS.”  

In the eyes of the refugees we encounter, we see immense sadness, grief, pain, frustration, and loneliness. We also see undeniable signs of love, healing and hope. As we continue to return to camps over time, we are enthusiastically welcomed and residents line up for treatment.  We are invited to have tea in refugees’ tents.   We listen to stories of bombs that fell on workplaces, children lost to war, and of family members imprisoned or stranded in other parts of the Middle East and Europe.  

We meet volunteers who have been working in the camps for many months or longer.  Some come for short stays and then extend their service period.  They become attached to the residents and see that the volunteer organizations are short-handed and that the needs are great.  Several we spoke to reported that they work long hours, sleep poorly, eat poorly or not at all during the day, and describe the work environment as highly stressful.  We recognize the symptoms of secondary trauma and arrange community clinics for volunteers in the evenings.  

During treatments, we are able to observe the positive effects of our medicine.  We see our patients becoming calm; some nearly fall asleep sitting up.  We are told, through interpreters, that some sleep better, feel more relaxed, and there are reports of less pain.  On some level, our work here is helping. 

One of the most satisfying things about our medicine, for me, is our ability to connect, in a way that transcends words.  Without imposing anything, we show up to create a sanctuary.  We hold space for quiet meditation, and skillfully elicit subtle, spontaneous reorganization of organs and systems.  We perceive each encounter as a seedling for individual, family, and community rejuvenation and rehabilitation.

Since last May, AWB has sent six volunteer teams to work in four refugee camps.  An essential aspect of AWB’s mission is to train Greek acupuncturists to do this work,  which expands its capacity to provide relief.  So far, AWB has trained twenty Greek acupuncturists who now work in teams to provide treatments twice a week in the Oinofyta and Ritsona camps, near Athens. AWB’s goal is to expand treatments to three more camps in 2017.

Rather than doing nothing, or simply watching from afar, we are doing something.  We are showing up, offering our time and our gifts; communicating with words and with our medicine that our deepest desire is for a more harmonious and peaceful world.  

Source:  https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/jan/10/greece-severe-weather-places-refugees-at-risk-and-government-under-fire

Want to help?  Visit my Activism Page

Global Volunteers Rock the Schoolhouse on the Island of Crete

In a small schoolhouse, in a small community, on the beautiful Greek Island of Crete, surrounded by crystal blue seas, children spend summer mornings playing ball, swinging hula hoops, and practicing conversational English with an international team of volunteers.  This was a new adventure for me this summer, and it turned out to be an experience I won’t soon forget. 

English lessons provided by volunteers are essential to the community of Gazi, Malevizou, according to Sam Pinakoulaki, the local program manager for Global Volunteers.  Kids need to be able to pass English competency tests in order to get into university in Greece.  Public schools don’t offer the classes, so families have to pay for supplemental lessons.  Many families don’t have the resources.  Sixty percent of the students attending the summer English program are underprivileged.  The program is free for all local families. 

Ms. Pinakoulaki is from Great Britain.  She has been a program manager for Global Volunteers for 10 years now, is a dancer, mother of five, and met her sweetheart, a Cretan musician, while dancing on a world tour 25 years ago.  She has lived on the Island of Crete ever since.  Some of her children are grown and working or at university, and her youngest is 10.  She says she never spoke English at home because she was eager to learn and adopt the Greek language.  Her children have all had English lessons through the Global Volunteers summer English program, and all speak fluent English.  Two of her children have passed the highest level competency exams, and three of them continue to contribute to the program as interpreters. 

Volunteers also support the curriculum in local English schools by providing one-on-one practice sessions in conversational English.  According to Pinakoulaki, there has been a 100 percent pass rate on the Michigan syllabus proficiency exams for English school students who supplemented their curriculum with conversational practice with Global Volunteers. 

Volunteer teams may be assigned various community projects, explains Pinakoulaki.  The program asks that volunteers be flexible and willing to help where help is needed.  Besides teaching English, teams have worked on maintenance projects, in gardens, and packed clothing and supplies for refugees.  “Greeks are going through a tough time, providing 457,000 refugees safety, healthcare, and food.  This is difficult for a country whose own people are struggling.  People didn’t have food on their own tables, but they still donated (clothing and supplies for refugees).”

Since 1984, Global Volunteers has served in 202 communities in 34 countries providing a variety of essential services.  The summer English school program on Crete serves 250 children annually.  Pinakoulaki emphasizes that “We immerse in the culture; it’s cross cultural learning.  We work hand-in-hand with the local people.  We do the work that is asked of us.  We do not impose our way into communities.  We only serve where we are invited.”

Jan Mcfarland-Brown is a 61-year-old third grade teacher from Montara, California that served in Gazi in July, 2015.  “I had a wonderful time in Crete because our Team Leader, Samantha Pinakoulaki was amazing.  She is warm, friendly and was great at coordinating our team. We worked with the students during the day, made lesson plans in the afternoon and then enjoyed the sights and sounds of Malevizou the rest of the time. The summer school was fun and the kids were great.”  Mcfarland-Brown plans to serve with Global Volunteers in Romania in 2017.  “My daughter lives in Sweden so I get to do three of the most enjoyable things I can think of, travel, volunteer and spend time with my daughter.”

Volunteers of all ages and nationalities are welcome and encouraged to participate in the program, and no teaching experience is necessary.  The only requirements for volunteers is that they are fluent in English and have a love for children.  Past volunteers in the Malevizou program have ranged in age from 3 to 92.  According to Pinakoulaki, the program hosts many repeat volunteers, some that come back every year.  The program is ideal for university groups and college groups that need to do their hours of service, and families, including grandparents and grandchildren.   Successful volunteers hail from all professions - doctors, lawyers, homemakers, students, and teachers, to name a few. 

She notes that usually on the first day walking to school no one talks to each other.  Everyone is nervous about their lesson plans.  She reminds her team to just focus on getting to know the kids. The goals of the program are to have fun, become ambassadors within the community, wage peace, and promote justice for all.  The intention of the program is to give the kids a positive experience with foreigners, and to help them practice conversational English in a fun environment.   There is no rigid curriculum and no exams in this summer school.  She reassures her teams that the translators are there to help, and fun is the number one goal.  

For the relatively short amount of time that I spent here, I felt there was some impressive effort and progress on everyone’s part.  I worked with the younger students, ages five through eleven.  I so appreciated when the kids learned to say “Good mor-r-r-r-rning Miss Jennifer,” sung with their characteristic tongue roll, when they entered the room each morning.  It was rewarding that even the most quiet, reserved students stretched themselves to say the words they remembered whenever I asked; even though some would only whisper, and only if standing right next to me. 

I totally cracked up and had a ball learning some Greek words.  I guess the kids thought it was only fair.  As I quizzed them with English flashcards, I asked them to tell me the Greek word as well as the English word.  I often had them pronounce the word, slowly, several times to assure that they had it.  They also implored me to annunciate my Greek correctly, and made sure I repeated it until I got it.  I’d try, “pou – ka – mi – so,” (shirt).  They’d laugh at my feeble attempt, and make me do it again, and again.   There were a few children that would stay in the classroom at recess and grab the pointer from my desk; it was now their turn to teach me the lesson and check my learning!

After serving myself this summer, I have to wonder who benefits more, the kids or the volunteers?  The kids got to practice a bit of English, play games, enjoy the company and novelty of foreigners, and earned a lot of stickers.  For my part, I learned a bit about Greek and Cretan language and culture, a lot about the power of simply showing up, and received dozens of hugs from little people and our hosts. 

The program in Malevizou hosts 11 teams of volunteers annually from March through October.  One and two-week assignments are available. 

For more information visit Global Volunteers.  (www.globalvolunteers.org)

This article was originally published by Eindhoven News.  

The Problem With Emotional Stability

This piece was recently published by Rebelle Society

Thou shalt conform, perform, and be happy.  
What if circumstances and relationships are deplorable and ridiculous?
Well then something is wrong with you.  Do you understand?
 
Aye, it must be hormonal then.  
Shall we medicate or smother?  

The war we see from afar – it’s not ours; not worth our angst.  We can’t do anything about it anyway.

The starving children and forsaken mothers – they’re not our problem either.  Born of stupid mistakes.  Not worth the price of our tears.  Their breasts hold the ills of the world; bear more than most.  

The sick, lonely, addicted, unemployed.  Consequences for one’s own actions are a brutal reality, we believe.  

The troubled child that doesn’t fit in will learn to suck it up. 

The broken adult who spun a glorious heartfelt web, and we spit on it; he’ll work in fast food and still the bills will go unpaid.   

The violent criminal:  Sick, not like us.  Too bad he didn’t have better parents.

The glamorous celebrity and the politician who once believed in their extraordinary visions and infinite possibility are routinely eviscerated in tabloids; in “Real News” and fake.  We ogle, laugh, and condemn, and deplore children who taunt and bully.  

We know, too, the worker bee who works, believes, holds it in, holds it up, shows up and turns it out because “good” people can, and do.   Whose heart implodes.    

There is nothing to anger, suffocate or depress a soul here.  

We tell ourselves to live by the truth of positive memes; emotional stability is a virtue.  

Emotionally stable.  
Emotionally stagnant.  
What is the difference?

Stable = unwavering; same all the time, predictable; positive.  
Stagnant = unwavering; same all the time, predictable; negative.
True?

Do it this way, do it everyday.  
It’s the way we’ve always done; the way you are expected to do.  
Complaining is not advisable; dreaming - imagining - is not efficient.  

Brilliantly radiant and complex beings turn… beige.  
Become heavy, stuck, lethargic, dull.  Flattened, like a sticky pancake.  
Congealed in turbidity.  
A swamp. 
Eventually grow to love and become protectresses of the swamp; dare not travel outside its boundaries.  

Beware!
An emotional swamp is a dark and treacherous landscape.

Like standing water, emotional energy turns brackish and infectious if it sits stagnant for too long, harnessing its capacity to cause dis-ease; virulent and contagious.  

When our visceral responses to our world are denied outward expression -  stopped at the door - choking us; not allowed to dance in the daylight of existence, our cells will idle, suffocate, eventually collapse.  The dead tissue, and dead dreams, will accumulate and implode within us, causing certain sickness.  This sickness grows large and dark and haunting.  With each denial it naturally expands in girth, velocity, and its propensity to explode.  The damage it will do may be of storm-wind proportions.  Or it will simply, silently, maliciously erode…  

For some, this will be catastrophic. 

Medication is not the antidote for this sickness.  It arrives far too late to the party, and smooths only the very surface of the lake.  

This thing you are holding, that every woman has held before.  
A thing in her Heart – Agony.  Sadness.  Hers, and the world’s.  
A dis-ease that could take down a nation.  
Love that could eradicate Winter.  

These are among the things that cannot be measured or controlled by science; for their magnificence cannot be contained.  

Be sad and know that it is good!  Appropriate, and necessary.

Be angry and rage!!  Sans guilt.  Holler.  Stomp.  Cry.  Say out loud the words that represent what feels True!  Refuse to be erased.  

LOVE with the fierceness of your entire being:  Gaia’s indignation.  

WE ARE BY NATURE, BIPOLAR.  Yin and Yang.  Masculine and Feminine.  Active and Restful.  Of Sun and Moon; Tides, Storms, Trees, Water, and Earth.  

In light of our place among the wildness of Nature, the delusion of emotional stability is inhumane!  Impossible.    

We can be assured that sadness – and everything else - will arrive at our door.  

What can we do?

Invite the Sun to warm our faces; the Moon to soothe our eyes.  
Stretch out on the floor, close our eyes, and feel.  Simply feel.    
Have a brave and candid conversation with a confidant, or a stranger.  

Conceive:  
How do I move forward?  
This is where it gets exciting!!  
This is where life becomes an adventure rather than a repetitive obligation of daily doldrum.  

Let it be your Art.  
Art that arises from the depth of human experience; a unique projection of perspective and Vision. 
Our humanness a finely tuned instrument in the orchestra of space, time, matter, and relationship.  
Personal Truth.
Unmitigated genius. 
Humanly channeled Wisdom; direction, momentum.
A Divine mentor.
Unscientific intelligence.  
Is there such a thing?
What do you think?  What do you feel?  What do you sense?
 
Let it be so.  

I say,
Let that Fire of fury invigorate you to speak; ROAR if you must!  Insist on being heard.  Fear not the sound of your own Voice!  

It is your precious gift to the world to transform your vital storm into color, form, story, rhythm, flow.  

Vision.  
Justice.  
Compassion. 
Vitality.  
Peace.  

Self Care: Your Blood, Sweat and Tears

According to Traditional Chinese Medicine, overwork and over-exercise can drain our vital fluids and eventually our organ systems and leave us feeling weak, tired, and vulnerable.  Over time this chips away at our constitutional strength and leaves us susceptible to emotional imbalances, menstrual difficulties and chronic disease.  As we become older and wiser, our body’s capacity to replenish our blood and vital fluids gradually diminishes.  Excessive sweating (as with frequent intense exercise) hastens and complicates this process and can diminish our constitutional ability to maintain a healthy and active lifestyle as we age.  Women are especially at risk for chronic conditions related to weakened blood and body fluids because of their unique physiology. 

Of course, excessive inactivity is as harmful as anything else we do in excess, and weakens us by causing Qi, Blood and turbid fluids to stagnate and accumulate. If you don't enjoy going to the gym, then don't.  But commit to some regular daily activity that engages your whole body, relaxes your mind and appeals to your senses.  Try walking in nature, dancing, gardening, building a snowman….

A daily routine of moderate exercise performed at the same time every day, like regular sleep and mealtimes, helps to create a routine of self-care that your body learns it can count on.  When your body recognizes that it can trust you to provide it with what it needs, then the body and mind begin to relax, organs and systems become harmonious, and life becomes less of a constant upstream effort. 

Many traditional medicine texts discourage exercise during the bleeding phase of the menstrual cycle.  In order for blood to flow out easily and painlessly, it is essential that the body be relaxed and adequate Qi be available in the pelvis to move the Blood.  In yogic traditions, inversions (yoga poses where your hips are higher than your head) are not recommended while a woman is bleeding because the positional change can disrupt the down-and-outward flowing energy that governs the movement of menstrual blood.  If you have pain or other symptoms associated with your period, it may be worth modifying your exercise routine for a few cycles to see if you notice any change in symptoms. 

If you work out frequently and full-on and find yourself experiencing chronic injuries, frequent colds, poor sleep, moodiness, irritability or anxiety, feeling cold, hot flashes, menstrual difficulties or digestive issues, your exercise routine may be draining you more than it's supporting you. 

Click below for a free printable handout.

Sources and Further Reading

Maciocia, G. (1998). Obstetrics & Gynecology in Chinese Medicine. Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone.

Zhao, X. (2006). Ancient Healing for Modern Women. New York: Walker & Company.

http://www.nicholasnoblewolf.com/writings/gift_from_moon.html

Empowering Habits

“If you do not pour water on your plant, what will happen? It will slowly wither and die. Our habits will also slowly wither and die away if we do not give them an opportunity to manifest. You need not fight to stop a habit. Just don’t give it an opportunity to repeat itself. (67)”                             ― Swami Satchidananda, The Yoga Sutras

“Repetition is the mother of skill.”  Anthony Robbins

It's the little things - the priorities we set and activities we choose every day, day after day, for weeks, months and years, that ultimately empower us or do us in.  Some are so common and so habitual that we hardly even notice how their effects accumulate over time. 

Repetition is a powerful thing.  It’s how we learn things, become skillful at challenging tasks; how we get them to stick and become second nature.  It’s nice to know that simple repetition over a period of time is all it takes to develop a good habit like meditating or cooking healthy food; or to become skillful in an art form, trade or profession, such as painting, dancing, or acupuncture. 

How tragic if the things that become second nature, due to simple lack of clear intention, are things that drive nails into early graves, suck our time, dull our senses, and keep us from more important things – ultimately realizing our dreams!  If we add up the hours per day spent on any particular habit (internet surfing, stress eating, or procrastinating for instance), multiply over the course of a year, and then over the course of a lifetime, the reality of “where does the time go?” can be staggering. 

Dreaming up and setting huge goals and intentions is magnificent!  However, the true physical, mental and emotional stamina necessary to realize magnificence is cultivated through a persistent practice of Self love and discipline, attentiveness and compassion. 

Questions that I’m asking myself today, and I invite you to explore as well: 

Which of your habits are the most life-giving? 

What habits drain your energy and misuse your time?  

What small thing will you do to empower yourself today?  

Amsterdam Women's March on Washington: Why I will be there on January 21

Taylor and Alyssa

I am sure it is not a mistake that this epic event is occurring on the day that I brought my extraordinary daughter into the world 23 years ago.  She and her girlfriend Alyssa are the number one reason I am marching.  

I am not marching against the President of the United States.  I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt moving forward.  I trust that he is going to learn and grow in his new role, and that he has something up his sleeve that will help propel us forward into a renewed and enlightened era, because, one way or another, I am certain that that is where we are headed.  Nonetheless, I hope he’s listening.  

I am turning up for this event because women often speak quietly, or share their wisdom in subtle and unconventional ways; our perspectives are often unique, intuitive, nonlinear, emotional, unexpected, and even controversial.  These voices and insights are essential to our growth and vitality as a society.  The marginalizing of these voices and perspectives has a lot to do with the sickness of body, mind, spirit and the Earth that we are witnessing today.  

Doctors, scientists, and politicians need to listen to women and mothers.  We know what is going on with our bodies, and with our children.  High quality, confidential healthcare for everyone is a right, without a whisper of government mandate or imposition in personal healthcare decisions.  

I march for all the women at home caring for children and family members, including those caring for vaccine-injured children.  

I march for immigrant women, mothers and children who are cold and feeling hopeless and forgotten in refugee camps in Europe.  

Mothers - healthy women - are the cornerstones of a healthy societies.  

Women are not here for anyone’s impulsive pussy-grabbing pleasure.  Violence against women must stop.

I’ve been following and admiring Michelle Hartney's powerful art and activism about women’s health issues, obstetric abuse, and postpartum PTSD for a while. Feeling bruised by our recent campaign season and outcome, she started a campaign of her own to “Make America Love Again.” I think she’s on to something. The premise of being “great” or striving to be “great,” in my mind, is the wrong sentiment to arrive with when you’re coming to the table to serve humanity. Make America Love Again feels like a solid, humble and responsible anchor. Of course we could fill in the blank with a lot of things…. Make America Peaceful, Responsible, Compassionate, Sustainable, Respectful again….. Other thoughts? You can contact her through her Facebook page to request stickers to decorate your neighborhood with. Her artwork is powerful and can be viewed on her website. Definitely worth taking a wander through.

The Art of Soul

I had amazing and surreal experiences in 2016; met amazing people, and saw more of the world than I ever thought I would in a lifetime. I’ve been touched and blessed by teachers, friends, wise women, healers, family, volunteers, real-life lessons in history, activists, refugees, politicians, children, Yoginis, and random souls I’ve encountered on the street and in airplanes.  
    
In many ways, the center of my universe has shifted – and the aftershocks continue.  I’ve had startling moments where I questioned my place in the world, in the order of things.  Is there an order?  Does knowing your place in the order somehow impart security?  It seems there is and it does, but I believe it’s also an illusion.  Who defines this order?  Are we aware whose order we’ve subscribed to?  Does it arise from within, or is it imposed upon us?  

I am a seeker.  Moving into 2017 I am only clear that I will continue seeking, healing, growing into my gifts and desires, and cultivating my respect for our Mother Earth as well as my love and compassion for humanity.  

I was having difficulty finding words to express an eruption of emotional energy that grew in me over the holidays.  Eventually I found my way through with colors, shapes and images; by cutting, pasting, coloring, writing, gluing, transposing, aligning, arranging and re-arranging.  It gently and fairly effortlessly unscrambled my brain and helped to clarify what is in my heart.  

It feels like The Dead and The Fierce.

It’s about life lessons that are delivered in code.

Strangling ourselves with excess-ories.  

Dead eyes staring at screens, watching the world consume itself.  

Fierce resilience and passion.

Judgment.  

Freedom.   

The Mother and her protégés.

Wisdom and acceptance.  

Complexities of collaboration and community; willful rebellion, defiance, sovereignty. 

Raw, naked, beautiful vulnerability.  The way we all are.  

Deep contemplation.  

Demons. 

Magic.  
  

Sensitive Souls

I took this photo at Ritsona refugee camp in Chalkida, Greece. This breathtaking mural was painted by Yazidi artist, Ismail Noh.

I feel you.  

You, 
Who feels the chronic ache of the insensitivity of the world.
The horror of war lives in your heart as if it were your own.
It is.  

As bombs explode on other continents, they also implode in your brain, Extravasated blood trickling back to your heart, nourishing it with each drop.  Daring you to care.  

You,
Who sees beyond false smiles, violent outbursts, and airtight facades.  
You, who perceives the lonely child.  

You,
Who becomes restless and bored with gratuitous chatter.
Plastic things.  
Fearful threats.  
You feel the disappointment of missed connections, unconscious movement.  

Of the overwhelming abundance that means nothing.  
Less than nothing.  
Who feels the bottom fall out of you from the weight of these things, tearing a hole,             Robbing like thieves your precious human-ness.  The touchy feely-ness of authentic fleshy wet nourishing abundance.  

You think poetry.  
Spit heart blood through your lips with your words.
Write nonsensical truth.  

Yes, you, the one with Courage.  The Brave one trying to hide your tears.   

She, 
Who waxes with the brilliance of the Moon, and wanes into the darkest Darkness,
And navigates both with otherworldly saavy and dexterity.  

Intolerant of the inner and outer warfare of body shaming, bullying, sexual, emotional, spiritual and intellectual intolerance.   

You, who sees the smallness of bullies; the cowering shadow.  

You,
Who was so humiliated that you shrank into smallness and dared never be Magnificent again.  

You,
Who knows the fear that lets us know without saying what we are not to say out loud.  

You know the pain of those that don’t know that a gentle touch, the gentlest, 
Which can hardly be felt at all, simmers and incites the subtlest but most
Real human connectivity.  
The one that means something, and is more
Masterful than the keenest intellect.  

You,
Named “mentally ill” - who couldn’t bear it anymore – 
I know you saw, you felt, you see and feel keener than the intelligent ones.  
You are the most loved.  The most loving.  
Forgive us our inability - our incapacity - to perceive, to feel you.  A million apologies Will never be enough.  

You, 
Who knows that fear is a lie that you can wink at or wear like a coat of armor.  

You,
Who sees with your eyes closed, and is so wise you recognize the world painted on your inner landscape.  That you are a hologram of everything.  

I want to talk with you.  I want to know you.  I believe we’ve already met somewhere?  Show me your defenseless Self; my eye is open.  

Want to change the world?  Visit my Activism Page

The Validity, Economy, and Fair Future of Fashion

As a lover of fashion and personal style, I am devastated and horrified to learn of the cruel and inhumane realities along the production chain of “fast fashion,” as illustrated in the 2015 documentary The True Cost.  

Fast fashion, according to the producers of The True Cost, is a modern fashion industry production and sales strategy to manufacture and sell cheap clothing meant to be worn briefly in fad fashion trends and then quickly tossed, making room for the next purchase and creating a steady and perpetual market for cheap and disposable clothing.

The livelihoods of millions around the world depend on the fashion industry – many make a respectable living, enjoy creative freedom, and reap the benefits of professional achievement and satisfaction. Meanwhile, the working conditions and unfair economy of common clothing manufacturing practices oppress entire communities, especially women and children, rape the earth, and misplace priority on profit for few over the collective health and integrity of people and planet.

The True Cost documents discussions with industry leaders, brings the camera into sweatshops, and highlights conversations with workers who stitch for unlivable wages. Ugly truths about worker exploitation, massive – lethal – factory accidents, and unchecked use of dangerous chemicals are brought into the light, with a plea for our attention and action...

Read the full article here.

Dancing Love

Photo by Lone Morch

This poem was published by Rebelle Society.

Dance is like floss, sweeping between and through my joint spaces and bones; creating space where there was accumulation and sorrow. 

The aches become less urgent, spaciousness is a welcome sensation. 

Continuity, fluidity, rhythm.  Extension. 

How moving in a slightly different direction can capture my attention; move a proverbial mountain that would otherwise remain for lifetimes. 

I dance for me. 

It moves my aching back; clears cobwebs, opens the portals.  

To move in a way I’ve never moved before is a revolution!  A direction other than forward, linear; walk, walk, reach, bend, hold the steering wheel. 

Angles and arches reveal infinite shapes. Stomping generates sound and vibration. I lengthen, become taller, more hollow; s p a c i o u s.  There is an opportunity there. 

Density is stuffy. 

I dance to express something with my entire body – my whole being; to express Love; to shake off some pain; to reveal a smile.  Create momentum.  Stretch beyond what I think I can.  To share what I can’t find words for.   

When I dance I can see myself in my mind’s eye being graceful, in command, bathed in evening sun; aligned with the universe and confident in my intention to share Light, Joy, Love of Dance, Nature, Humanity. 

I am extraordinary.  I can imagine that.  I can be that.  An extraordinary vessel that can inspire. 

I stretch myself and still feel confident; know that the unknown is an opportunity not to be feared.  If I can move in this interesting and unchartered way, perhaps I can reach into the world in unexpected ways without fear. 

Perhaps the ache in my hips and my back, rather than holding me back, can transform.  And that ache in my heart that haunts me since I was small.  I can stretch, jiggle, and slide.

Those aches and doubts and tragedies, small and large, can be transformed into watery spirals, and soar in a new rhythmical symphony of possibility – informing but not imposing.  Memories stuck but then set free become inspiration; reasons to change.  

What a gift to be able to see myself as a collaborative cellular community imbued with infinite divine possibility, rather than a finite and unfortunate structure, like a box.  A closed space. 

What does it mean to see myself as a closed space?  In a closed space?  Finite?  To identify with my pain?  To perceive confinement?

How movement transforms my cellular structure, and my thinking, is curious to me. 

Is dance necessarily a state of being out of control?  Like a spectacular tantrum.  Fleshy and sweaty.  Beams of essential light bursting through pores and eyeballs. 

Or flawless syncopation; a cellular symphony of atomic vibrations that conveys the sincerest and sweetest expression of humanness?  Is control a necessary part of that?  May dance be an opportunity to transcend control?  To touch my greatest, most ethereal potential – the most sensual and spectacular; like WOW!  Is this even real?   Is this even possible?

Expansion.  Compassion.  Connection.  Love.  Human synergy. 

I think I just saw God, if even from a distance, a brief glimpse. 

That God is me. 

That Goddess is my dance. 

God and Goddess dance in me and gave me dance in order that I may excel and express the best aspects of me beyond measure. 

What does that mean, to see beyond myself?  Beyond my limited worldview?  I can expand myself with rhythmical feet, long arms that explore possible trajectories in infinite pathways.  I can expand in expression, emit compassion.  Embody Love.  Self Confidence.  Self Knowledge. 

Those tiny little stubborn bits within me that adhere for dear life – “leave me alone,” “let me be,” “let me hide here forever. “

That is what dance can liberate.  And this is the beginning of transformation. 

Dancing every day is good.  I will do it until I die. 

Dance every day.  Dance every day.  Dance every day. 

(I’m forgetful)

Dance on the train.  Dance when I’m sitting in a chair.  Dance when I am in conversation.  Dance when I am alone.  Dance when I am snuggling with my dog.  Dance when I am feeling sexual – allow sexuality to live in me; to move me; to sparkle and grow and animate my dance. 

To dance without shame. 

That dance that happens in every minute of every day, if I let it.  Dance even in my dreams.  Sensing, surrendering, being moved.  This is dancing.  This I will do every day.