Starlight in the Heart

Life is good. Autumn in DC is spectacular this year including the finest breath-taking leaf display I've seen in years, plus perfect Colorado weather most days. There have also been just enough gray days to lend a cinematic mood to the season. The best part is, because I'm 60, I'm appreciating every day so much more fully than I could have even ten years ago.

Here are a few of the dozens of pictures I took yesterday. I hardly ever post multiple pics, but it's necessary in order to convey that, nearly everywhere I walk these days, the trees are bursting with color.

I think we humans could learn a thing or two from deciduous trees about taking in the light, being nourished by light. Trees drink sunlight. They are well fed.

I've been thinking lately about one of the truths in the Reyaverse - that love is abundant and always available. Yet, sometimes we can not access the great ocean of love. In the Reyaverse, the great ocean of love is the divine light. It's all around us, always available if we can remember. Why do we forget? Is it the struggling towards the light that helps us evolve? Theories?

Trees grow towards the light, they grow branches and put out as many leaves as they can manage in summer. They increase their surface exposure, they surely do, so as to catch as much light as they can. They make hay while the sun shines.

When Brother Sun takes his autumnal dive into the darkness that will be winter, the trees draw the light in, and down. The leaves turn color as the chlorophyll gathers in. Super bright leaves in fall is an indicator of a tree is good health. Then, during winter, they sleep.

When I'm able to notice the divine light and therefore have access the ocean of love, is there a way I can expand my surface exposure? When the light wanes, can I be brave enough to shake off the old leaves, without giving it a second thought, without hoping somehow to hang on to the best of the leaves?

This is the train of thought I've been traveling on lately. Why oh why is it so easy for humans to get sucked into the dark when there is so much light? Do you know?

The days are waning fast in the American midatlantic. It's 7:30 a.m. in DC. The sky is only slightly brighter than it was at midnight. The trees are drawing in, pulling the sunlight they gathered into their hearts where it will burn slowly, like an ember, until spring.

Can I do that? I should be able to, since in terms of the seasons of life I am somewhat past the pretty leaf aspect of aging. I should be shaking off the the leaves, I should. How does one do that? Do you know?

Onwards and upwards to the holiday season.

Autumn has come into its fullness in DC. The leaves are changing color, also starting to fall in heaps and piles. The leaves will continue to fall until New Year's Day, the last leaf collection date in the city. Can you believe it? Yeah! The Sweeping of the Leaves is a daily routine between October and January in this leafy, tree filled city. I love trees. Also I love sweeping leaves, so for me, it is well worth it.

Fall and spring are the big seasons in the midatlantic. Both go on and on. And on. And a bit longer still. Where I grew up, in the American midwest, summer and winter prevail with short but spectacular springs and falls. But here, spring is a gaudy parade that lasts for months. Fall is vivid, gorgeous, wrenching, and lengthy. This is one major reason why I live here. I love spring and fall!

Today was beautiful. I'm back to good health, hence I worked most of the day, but did pop out long enough to notice the sparkling air, the breathtaking blue of the sky. The light was incredible today, both gold and silver and pure as snow. Everything looks beautiful in that kind of light. I took several dozen pictures in a relatively short period of time.

Life is settling down in DC at last. The shutdown was a rift in time/space that was not only challenging as it was happening, but left a choppy energy in its wake. But I think we're back to what we call normal. What is normal? I've never been able to grasp the concept.

Whatever it is, I believe we have achieved it, just in time for the holiday season. Whew.

Life is good, and I am grateful. Shalom.

Flesh and Blood Again

It has been a long week. For most of it, I've been sick.

The Sufi acupuncturist says I am suffering from autumnal dry heat. Oh yeah. I surely am. Dry cough, a fever, but most notable: a heaviness that was not exhaustion. Exhaustion is a condition I think of as a vacuum, a nothing, no energy at all. Exhaustion is depletion. What I suffered from was quite different. This week's heaviness felt metallic. I felt as if I were made of iron. I felt like a large cube of rusty iron. It was not pleasant. If I'd had any energy, I would have worried. I did as little as possible during the days, slept hard and long at night, but woke up as heavy as the day before. Odd. At last I got in to see the Sufi acupuncturist, the only health care professional I know who would completely understand my symptoms.

Fortunately, the miracle of Chinese medicine has set me to rights, even though I had to drink a truly terrible tea in addition to the acupuncture. It was worth it. I am restored. Thank god for the Sufi acupuncturist! I am grateful.

The leaves are turning and the days have been alternately pewter, with roiling clouds and bitter winds, or bright and sunny with shocking blue skies. It's 6:23 in DC, almost dark already. It is autumn, alright.

In spite of the dry heat, my body's way of dancing in shamanic alignment with the shift in seasons, I love autumn.

Shalom.

Liquify

It didn't take long, after the end of the shutdown, for the machine of the District of Columbia to crank back into full gear. It was not gradual. We went from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. Or maybe, better than the pedal-to-the-metal metaphor: a blender, switched from OFF to VAPORIZE. Oh, and somebody forgot to put the lid on.

Splat. Energy flew everywhere for a couple of days, energy that had been hanging, growing more sour with each passing day, over the city. The night before last, Brother Wind came through, blasted the last bits of the shutdown out into the Atlantic. What a relief! Onwards and upwards.

During the days of flying energy bits, I attended several gatherings, things planned long before we knew there would be a shutdown, such as our village fete, the Literary Feast. The dinner I attended was based on the Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas. Our host used the recipes from her cookbook to inspire the menu. We were served an opulent, 20s style Parisian dinner. Between courses, a man in a beret and scarf stood up and recited Gertrude Stein poetry about food and dining. Needless to say the evening was fabulous. I love the Feast. It is Capitol Hill's thanksgiving. A blast!

There was no choice other than to twirl around in the blender of energy. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and there was no escape from the blender, nope. I'm glad I had plans to be at a noisy, boisterous, very fun gathering. It was my way of dancing in shamanic alignment with the reopening of the government. I drank a little too much, laughed a little too loudly. It was great.

Today feels calmer, as if someone remembered to put the top on the blender at last. Perhaps we'll now get back into a rhythm that feels normal, whatever that is.

I love the dazzling days of fall, the leaves, the shocking blue sky, the gold light. It is gorgeous out there, cold enough for a jacket. I don't think we saw temps in the 40s last year until February. I am happy!

Looking forward to a much less hectic week this week. Life goes on. Shalom.

That's the castle at the Smithsonian, and me, taking a pic of the fairy globes in the garden.

The Fine Art of Futzing

You would not believe how fast DC cranked back into gear. Even before the deal was signed into law, I saw people in suits streaming down East Capitol, headed to work, it appeared.

I have no doubt that the unexpected staycation was alarming to some federal workers, those whose lives are shaped around their work. But there were also a lot of people for whom the experience was a revelation. They had time, actual time, in the city. When these people take vacation, they travel. They get the hell out of DC. They never plan for days off, figuring they can jam every activity outside of work into the weekends. This is a city of seriously hard-working people.

But it was actually against the law for them to work during the shutdown. Instead, they caught up with household projects, gardened, took a run in the middle of the day when usually they would be bent over a computer screen in a hermetically sealed cubicle or office. They took leisurely walks with their dogs, picked up their kids from school, came for massage.

They relaxed. They goofed, chilled, chillaxed. (I love that "word.") They practiced the fine art of futzing. The time off was a gift to those who were comfortable enough to go with it - it surely was - and an eye opener, no doubt.

These are the days of our lives. That phrase has been running round and round my horn of plenty (my mind, I mean). These are the days of our lives. Every little thing we do or don't do is written into the saga that is the story of who we are and how we spend our time. A lifetime of crippling work, unless there is no other option, might not provide the most satisfying life story, some of these federal serfs are thinking.

Yesterday they were back at work, no doubt to rotting food in the break room fridge, and thousands of emails. While taking my walk through this sparkling fall day, I felt for my neighbors and clients who must now readjust to the dehumanizing and demoralizing environment of the office.

The architecture of the traditional office building is so wrong. It's efficient, but deadening to the body and spirit. At least this is my experience in office buildings. There are many lovely offices, too. Also many more people are working from home. Work environments are changing, thank god. But my sense of federal office space is that it's pretty grim, like something from out of the Cold War.

Alas, the precious time the furloughed workers had for two weeks has been whisked away again. It's back to the grind. I expect there will be a period of readjustment, but most citizens of the District are pretty tough and will put their noses to the grindstone with determination, even fervor.

I have nothing but admiration for the bad-ass, smart, hard working citizens of my city. And nothing but gratitude that even though I don't have money or security (whatever that means), I make my own schedule and do not work in a lifeless cubicle. Also I have time. It is so precious. Believe me.

Shalom.

Horn of Plenty

One of the meditation techniques I use is labeling. When I wake up inside a thought, it helps me to categorize the thought before returning to the sensation of my breath, i.e. "planning," or "remembering." "Worrying" is also a label I frequently apply to whatever is distracting me. Some people don't need the labels, but they really help me.

When my head is overflowing with plans, memories, worries, hopes, fears and dreams, rather than trying to name every kind of thought, every manner of story I'm telling myself, sometimes I just say "Horn of Plenty." Then I go back to the sensation of breath for awhile.

I used to ask friends, boyfriends, etc. "What are you thinking?" I'm curious, and too, my mind can generate a horn of plenty thoughts at any given microsecond. When people responded by saying, "Nothing," I always wondered what that meant. They really were thinking of nothing? Nothing?? Or they might have meant, It's none of your business. Probably the latter, yes?

My head has been so overfull of thoughts lately that even the cornucopia can not begin to hold them all. This morning, in a desperate attempt to find some peace while meditating, I made a list of thought types. The list went on and on. As the list lengthened, I began to laugh. The laughter sounded odd, felt odd. I realized I haven't really laughed since the beginning of the shut down.

It isn't just my annoyance at the chuckleheads in the Capitol that has me thinking myself silly. There are a couple of clients I'm worried about. Also a kind man who lives across the street died a few days ago, bringing home the reality of mortality. And, too, we're into Halloween season, my least favorite holiday. Why is it fun to be scared? In particular, why is it fun to scare children? I don't get it, nor do I appreciate the effigies of witches rammed into trees, pictures of barfing pumpkins on Facebook, etc. Yuck.

All of the above was jammed into the horn of my head when I started laughing. Finally I decided, screw the meditation today. Instead of being all steady and grounded and such, perhaps today I'll try to have some fun. What a concept! It's a gorgeous day. I'm seeing clients but will have time late this afternoon to get out for a walk. My goal is to try to enjoy the walk, to tune in to a different wavelength than the energy current of Congress.

Holy cow. I should avoid that energy current EVERY day. Shouldn't I? Well, yes. Yes. Yeah. Onwards and upwards.

Shalom.

When in doubt, try Bach

Times are tough in DC. Even the most oblivious among us can feel the tension. The guy at the corner store dreamed bears had invaded the city and were attacking everyone. A client driving in from Virginia said she started gagging as soon as she crossed the bridge into the District. Neither one of these people, or countless others, wishes to believe they sense the tension that grows a little more strained every day the shutdown continues. But they feel it, they surely do! All of us here feel it.

I wonder, has the rest of the country gotten tired of thinking about it, ranting and/or raving, feeling angry? I'm not sure. But, anger and outrage are exhausting emotions. After awhile they run their course unless there's some kind of severe imbalance. If I lived in Denver or New Orleans, maybe I'd be thinking about something else at this point. I wonder.

The citizens of DC, by and large, would love to forget all about it, but unfortunately, we have to live with it. You could say we live IN it. The energy around the Capitol is an ugly, sludge-like, toxic stew of stalled out negotiations, rancor and boredom. I wouldn't take a walk down there for a $1 million. OK, yes - I would. But for any amount less than that, no way. The energy is sickening!

Even so, the mood outside of the Capitol grounds has lightened a little bit. The rain forced everyone to slow down, go indoors and wait it out a bit. The rain washed the city thoroughly and gently - we needed it badly. As well, anger and outrage are fiery emotions. The cool, non-stop rain probably put out a few fires. I hope so. Weekends are better, too, because people aren't supposed to be at work, hence it feels more normal, whatever that is.

I'm working a lot today, listening, in between clients, to Chris Thile playing Bach. He is nimble! Wow. Such a sweetness in his interpretation, such straightforwardness. I am digging it.

It seems auspicious that I've only in the last 24 hours switched from listening to jazz, a form that allows a lot of chaos, to Bach, which allows no such thing. Perhaps the shift means the wave of chaos that passed through my life after I got back from the lake - a wave that wiped out my camera, screwed up my phone and ipad and totalled the hard drive on my computer - has moved past. Bach is always, for me at least, about rebuilding from the ground up. Bach is a firm foundation for beginnings. Bach is organized. I am loving listening to it! May it be so that the wave has subsided.

May the chaos surrounding Congress be dispersed - or converted, redrawn - into something that's at least somewhat harmonious. May they come to an agreement this coming week. May the chuckleheads clap each other on the back and congratulate themselves on a job well done. Oy vey.

It's a hard re-start, emphasis on hard. May it be resolved this week. May it be so.

Shalom.

Less than zero

Taken from the window of the zipcar when I went to buy groceries yesterday.

A storm came in from the Atlantic, met a handsome cold front. Like that scene in West Side Story when Tony and Maria meet at the dance, it was love at first sight for the storm and the front. They embraced each other and began to dance. That was a couple of days ago. They are so in love. We're well into day three of steady rain. It's a gentle, soaking rain - exactly what we've needed.

It's kind of a lot of rain, but I'm not complaining. The truth is, I don't have anything pressing I need to do outdoors. I can't go to the museums, after all. As for my habit of walking down to the Capitol, well, at this moment I have less than zero enthusiasm for that idea.

Less than zero enthusiasm. What in the world is that?

I'm thinking a lot about zero these days. I'm thinking about integers and natural numbers and irrational numbers. I'm thinking about factoring and the formulas and rules that keep numbers of every kind from getting out of hand. Yeah. I wonder why I feel embarrassed to admit I'm reading Algebra I for Dummies? It's much too late in life to be embarrassed that I'm a nerd. I loved Algebra in middle school, and am so far really enjoying the book. I wonder if I'll get into the workbook too? I hope so.

For years I've entertained the idea of learning a language. Learning Spanish, for instance, would be handy since I could use it every day. But I never followed through. Then last winter when I was freaking out about turning 60 I thought I should study French again. I used to be able to understand a lot and speak a little as long as it was in present tense. I had a passable accent and learned to speak quickly. If you want to speak French, you have to have attitude - or it falls flat. You can not fear the language. I love French.

But as soon as the panic about being 60 passed, I forgot all about studying French.

The urge to study Algebra came directly from my developing relationship with my new animal guide, the carrier pigeon. She is a wonderful ally who will not only deliver messages to me, but can carry messages from me, too. The thing is, she prefers to deliver messages in code. So far I've just been using a basic code, substituting numbers for letters using the numerical order of the alphabet. It's not imaginative in the least. I like to be artful whenever possible, but I don't have the skills in this arena. Also should mention she is bringing me messages in numeric form I can't interpret because my math skills are so rusty.

Yes, I really think this way.

Math is definitely a language, perhaps the language I'm destined to learn a little bit about. You think? The bottom line is, it can't possibly hurt me to study Algebra. If I get tired of it and decide not to pursue it, I'll only be out the cost of the two books. It could stimulate my aging neural network to remain as plastic as possible, a bonus, and if it gives me things to think about, that's good, too.

Which brings me back to zero. I think someone wrote a whole book about how radical it was when zero was discovered. A shock wave moved through the mathematical world. Can you imagine a world without zero? Me neither. So cool. I am intrigued!

Alright. The shutdown carries on. Someone said the chuckleheads down at the Capitol are softening. Maybe the rain is helping, who knows?

I'm not going to worry about it. I would rather think about zero, if you don't mind.

I'm drinking tea and listening to jazz, gazing out at the soft rainy grayness out there. I'm content.

Shalom.

Enduro

Writing about the government shutdown is not sexy. It's not glamorous, it's not fun. But y'all, I am swimming in it. To try to ignore it would be absurd. Wouldn't it?

I went downtown to get some much needed acupuncture today. As usual, the Sufi acupuncturist named the situation precisely within seconds of feeling my pulses. He used words like rattled, from within and without, he said. He used the word chaos. His diagnostic accuracy is rather miraculous.

The streets of DC are full of gloom and doom. The weather of course reflects the mood precisely. It's cloudy and chilly, damp. Every time I thought I was almost warm this morning, an unpleasant wind would kick up. In addition to being rattled, I was walking around shivering this morning, with a fairly sour look on my face. I assure you I was not the only one!

OK, I have complained enough. I know this will not last forever. Though no one can say for sure, it doesn't feel like the end of our government, so they will have to get it together and figure something out. They will.

In the meantime I am healthy, doing good work. I love my new camera. Every one of my devices is functioning perfectly. I live in a beautiful house on a grand street in a city that is beautiful, powerful, and particularly at this moment in time, in a lot of pain.

From the wing of Grandfather Eagle, where I'm sometimes allowed to ride, I get glimpses of the big picture. We are moving forward rather quickly as a society. There are problems of course, and the disparity in wealth is never a good sign in any culture. That's what happens just before empires tank - but we have also made huge strides forward.

I remember clearly the Civil Rights movement. My parents were heavily involved. To think that we moved from that to electing a black president in only fifty years is astonishing. My current theory is that the rise of the Tea Party reflects the the emotional reaction of those who - even if they don't think of themselves as racist - are somewhat appalled every time they see black folks living in the White House. It is not traditional. Nope. I think for a percentage of Americans, this huge turn from what has always been feels threatening. Marriage equality feels threatening to some, women's reproductive rights kick some people into survival mode. Gays in the military, immigration reforms and health care reform, too? Oh my. For conservatives, it's way too much change, way too fast.

For we progressives, it's never enough change and never fast enough.

What I see when I ride on the wing of Grandfather Eagle is that once the horse is out of the barn, closing the door will do no good. We'll look back on the Tea Party, its rise and quick demise. We'll tell the stories. Believe me. It's going to take awhile to work through, but we will persevere. Onwards and upwards.

Shalom.

Context

Not everything about being 60 is bad by any stretch of the imagination. There is so much wonder in having reached this age. At age 60, they say in Chinese medicine, we have been through each of their zodiacal animal years in each of their five elements. In other words, we've seen the full cycle. We've seen it all.

In spite of this, initially the energy of the government shutdown caught me off guard. I'm not the only one who got swept up in a crazy vortex of energy. In fact, many citizens of DC and the rest of the country are still thrashing around in a boiling stew of acrimony. It is a bitter stew! And yet, it's compelling.

Oh I was fit to be tied for a few days. I even briefly considered taking the purbha (a Tibetan shamanic tool meant to pierce the hearts of demons) down to the Capitol where I thought I might try to pop the delusional bubble that surrounds the building. Luckily, before storming down there, I was able to remember that doing magic at the federal level has never worked well for me. I was like a gnat up against a hurricane every time I tried. Splat. Ridiculous. There are many reasons why I don't do magic anymore. Thank god.

But I decided to walk down there anyway. Every kind of crazy was already at work within the bubble. There was the guy yelling about the dangers of electromagnetic energy, there was the Jesus lady, people ranting, people raving, people pacing back and forth. I didn't stay long in the midst of all that! A few minutes after I left, the woman rammed into the barriers on the Constitution side of the grounds. Perhaps she popped the bubble, I'm not sure.

After partaking briefly of the madness on the Capitol grounds, I remembered the sixties, how tumultuous and extreme that period of time was. I remembered how unsettling it was, then as now, to make such huge progressive societal leaps. Even those of us who wanted the changes that took place in the sixties were unsettled. This period of time, since the election of our first black president, is equally tumultuous. Great strides forward have been made, though they never seem enough, or fast enough for progressives. It's too much change, too fast, for conservatives. Our national soul is having another identity crisis, probably rightly so. The national soul, and many U.S. citizens, are in a tizzy.

We were headed for a calamity like this. It was inevitable. Should we be surprised this is happening? Initially I was, but then - because I'm 60 - I remembered that thing I always say, that this time is just like the sixties. It surely is!

The "crazy caucus," as they are called here in DC, are channeling trickster energy like nobody's business. They dress and talk the talk of traditionalists, i.e. Tea Party, love the Constitution, etc. But they are anarchists. If the Chicago 7 had gotten elected, they might have chosen the same method to shut down the government - for very different reasons, and to very different ends. Oh those crazy caucus politicians! They do not love the Constitution any more than Abbie Hoffman did. The trickster is running strong in them, through them.

I wonder what will happen next?

Though today will no doubt be weird, at least it's supposed to rain. It has been about a month since we've seen any rain at all, hence the relief will be palpable. Perhaps the furloughed people will put a stupid movie in the Netflix queue, check out for awhile. I hope at least some of them can relax.

I'll be working all day, a very good thing for so many reasons. I am very grateful to have found a softer current of energy to ride. I'm leaning into my practices, I'm striving to work at the top of my form with clients who have to contend directly with the energy inside the Capitol as well as people who live, as I do, in the shadow of that icon. We are tough but this is crazy. Oh yeah.

We've got a ways to go before this gets worked out, but something will shift. It will. I remember how it goes. The shutdown will not last forever. I can remember this directly, because I am 60. Life is good and I am grateful. Shalom.

DC in Limbo

Washington DC felt slightly more at ease today than since the shutdown, even though the guy who self immolated on the mall died today. Probably that is for the best.

But - Saturday is a day people are used to not working. A normal pattern felt better than weekdays with everyone off work. Today was hot, hazy, muggy, and the air smelled sour. Hard to imagine how it could have been different. People were out and about, nevertheless. They had to get out there. Me too. Life goes on.

I saw a very large bird circle high above the Eastern Market metro station this morning. I tried but was unable to bring it into focus with the camera. Eventually I gave up and just watched. I saw it circle overhead two or three times, then with one stroke of its wings, fly off to the east. It was elegant, graceful, huge. It may have been a very large hawk. It might have been an eagle. It was big, and it radiated grandeur. Whatever it was, and even though I was unable to take a picture of it, the graceful circling of this magnificent bird inspired me to take a big step backwards from the issues at hand. Instead of trying to tease apart the details, I was inspired to take an eagle's eye view of the situation.

What came to me is that this stalemate was inevitable. We've been headed straight towards it, through impasse after impasse. Sometimes a hard restart is necessary. Those words echoed through my head all afternoon. Sometimes, a hard restart is necessary.

So true.

In the last week I've visited the Apple store Genius Bar four times. During the third visit it was determined that my hard drive was toast. On my fourth visit, I picked up my computer with its brand new, shiny hard drive. Ta-da!

It's astonishing how much better my computer runs now than it ever has. I bought it last February. For the first time in my 30 years of owning Macs, I was disappointed. I told my sister this was the first Mac I've owned that felt kind of cheaply made. What I'm realizing now is that the hard drive was funky from the get go. It was a lemon. When it gave up the ghost, it was for the best. It runs smoothly and quickly now, without a hitch, with the new hard drive.

I could never have planned the death of my hard drive to coincide with the government shut down. No. That is not possible. However, synchronicitiies like this are part and parcel of the shamanic lifestyle. I am woven into the energy of Washington DC at a rather profound level. It's alarming!

Life goes on. We will slog through the hard restart, we surely will. May this situation clear the decks for a better process from now on. May the government restart be as successful as the replacement of my Macbook Air hard drive. May it be so!

Shalom.

Praying for rain.

Madness

The soul of the United States is in the midst of a political and financial heart attack. Our government is partially shut down, our lawmakers have no capacity to work together, and many of our citizens are enraged. There are different targets for the outrage, specific people in Congress, the president, one party or the other, that sort of thing. The common denominator is rage.

I, too, have been enraged, so much so that I didn't even try to settle down. Well - yes I did, but I was not successful. I couldn't sleep, was following the news - always a terrible idea for me. I was wringing my hands and gnashing my teeth, I tell you. I even briefly considered doing some magic down at the Capitol.

This is a huge crisis, the center of which is 7 blocks away. Oh yeah, of course I was in a state! For heaven's sake.

Yesterday I took a walk around the Capitol, to sip the energy, you know. It was a circus down there. One man was shouting at the top of his lungs about the dangers of electromagnetic energy. He was scary - I steered a wide arc around him. The cops were watching him but also making space for him to rant. He was on the Senate side. On the House side was the nice Jesus lady who sets up an almost life sized statue of Jesus, talks to passersby about love and peace. She is very sweet - I've seen her there before. There were federal workers walking around with their home made signs - I so enjoy hand constructed protest signs. There were also tourists of course, and other people like me milling around. God bless America where we are allowed to express ourselves.

The energy was thick and of course the weather reflected it. After weeks of Colorado weather, yesterday was muggy and uncomfortably warm. The air was heavy and hazy, slightly rancid smelling. I felt like I was slogging through a thickish hot soup that had gone sour. The weather here explains everything, I tell you.

I walked once around the building after which I headed straight home. Fifteen minutes later, that poor crazy woman was shot and killed near the grounds.

Something about my walk around the Capitol made me remember that I know how to be grounded. I've practiced for decades. I've practiced calm, I've practiced open mindedness. I've practiced feeling abundant love in my heart.

It is so tempting to drop into the boiling thick hot soup of this national crisis, to point a finger or two, to blame, to rant and rave. Oh man it is so tempting! Yesterday's walk around the Capitol reminded me that the best possible response is to lean into my practices. Oh my yes. Every flavor of crazy was down at the Capitol, every flavor. I don't want to be one of the crazies! It helps nothing.

This morning I doubled my meditation sit time. I thought about my prayers carefully before offering them. I'm drinking tea - not coffee. I'm remembering to relax my jaw and shoulders. Later I'll see clients - a great thing for so many reasons.

Even right after 9/11, DC did not feel this bizarre, because after 9/11, we were all in it together. These are crazy, history worthy times. The best thing I can do is do what I believe in. I am breathing. I feel clear. The moon has turned. May we prevail! Shalom.