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Camp Broken Arrow

Camp Broken Arrow – the name

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Some people ask, “Where did the name Camp Broken Arrow come from?”

The answer unfolds in layers.

Shortly after I decided to build a camp on this property that has been in my family for 50 years, I found a broken arrow lying on the ground.

An arrow that was likely used for deer hunting. Arrows are a reminder of man’s earliest weapons of destruction and death. Today, the offspring of mankind’s arrows are now present as rifles, missiles, attack jets and mortar shells. Breaking an arrow is breaking a habit of war and separation and “otherness”.

So – the quick answer is that a broken arrow represents the end of war… a symbol of peace. I hope this camp will be kept in service of that highest value.

Breaking an arrow to destroy your fear

At a deeper level, that broken arrow invoked a time when I had an encounter with another broken arrow. In fact, it was a full wooden practice arrow that I broke… with the tip of the arrow pressing against my throat.

This broken arrow was part of an exercise at an Integral Theory retreat in a class being taught by Cindy Lou Golin. Cindy was inviting us to take a risk so crazy, so outrageous, so unimaginable… that once we did this, we would be empowered to take other risks to make the most of our lives.

She invited us to sign a waiver against accidental injury or death. This is never a good sign.

Then, she proceeded to introduce us to a wooden practice arrow, with a plastic bow piece, synthetic feathers, a wooden shaft and a shaped metal tip capable of penetrating an archery target. One by one, each of us who signed the waiver was asked to place the back of the arrow against a concrete pillar and the metal tip… against the soft area of our throat, just above the collar bone.

Go ahead and find yours. Roll your finger on that soft part of your throat. And imagine that you will put a metal-tipped arrow against it.

Now, STEP INTO THE ARROW UNTIL IT BREAKS!

I’d like to say I went first… but I didn’t. Once I saw someone else do it, I volunteered to try as well. My level of fear and apprehension was through the roof. There were real risks. The arrow could splinter and enter your eye – or your throat. Not likely, really – but possible.

And then, as you push that arrow into your throat… and feel the cool metal against your hot skin, you wonder, “how hard am I going to have to push to break this thing?”

You apply a little pressure and it doesn’t give. It just pushes further into your skin. And you stand there in fear.

So, you drop all of your inhibitions and take a full step forward. The arrow breaks. You get a rush of relief and adrenaline that is unforgettable. I felt like I entered a new way of being.

So at another level, Camp Broken Arrow is about stepping into your fears and pushing through them to an unknown future. Pushing into a future that brings all of your current world with you … and opens a door into an unknown world that you did not previously know was possible.

This is where magic happens!

The result of the broken arrow after the exercise

Broken Arrow: When All is Lost

And then my son, a war history buff, told me, “Dad, that’s a terrible name! Do you know what ‘broken arrow’ means in the military?”

I admitted that I did not.

“It means that your position is lost. It means that your enemy has overrun your borders and is about to slaughter you and everyone with you. It is a radio call that is made to call in coordinates for a suicide air strike, in hopes that the strike will take out your enemy along with your squad. ”

And I realized that this meaning of the broken arrow was something that we’ll all have to contend with, sooner or later. Our current way of living is broken. We have depleted the wells and we don’t know it yet. We have out-consumed what our world is able to create. We’ve lit the fuse on the bomb … and we are about to be overrun by our way of living.

Broken Arrow means we are here to find a new way forward. We are ready to leave the ways of modernity and step into something new. Something unknown. With magic. And in peace.



Culture

Choosing Our Leaders

An election is looming,
choosing our leaders is a time to reflect
on the priorities we wish to see in our world.

How do you choose?

I hope we have the courage to choose the people
who are closest to the best version of our selves.

The prophets and spiritual guides tell us:
“We are one.”
“Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me.”
“Love your neighbor.”
“Love your enemy.”
“Seek first to understand, then to be understood.”

The best insights into the human spirit will give us pause. They present us with a challenge.
Do I REALLY want to “turn the other cheek”?
Can I really LOVE that neighbor who seems to spew hate and anger towards me?
Can I FORGIVE someone who stole from me? Or tried to harm someone I love?

When we choose our leaders, we have a chance to answer these questions.

Some candidates tell us to be fearful of others… to watch out for ourself… to be suspicious of others.
This appeals to our ego… our watchdog of individualism… of me, Me, ME!
It feels strong. It feels safe. It feels exclusive.
It only requires that we look out for Number One.

Other candidates encourage us to be joyful… to celebrate our rainbow of diversity … to rejoice in being part of the human species – and to work towards a healthy planet for all beings.
It feels promising. It feels energizing. It feels inclusive.
It requires faith, courage, patience and tolerance.

This little blue marble of a planet is hoping we choose the path of our best selves.

A diverse earth – generated by ChatGPT

Culture, Reflections on Life, Studying and Exploring

The Culture I Didn’t Know was Possible

In 2023, I was blessed with a two week family journey to Costa Rica. I’m trying to figure out when I realized that something was very, very different in the culture of this country. Looking back, I might have taken my cue from the tall Englishman, a farmer, who was returning on his vacation to his beloved Costa Rica. He gushed about the warm people, the food and the land.

I might have picked up some of the clues right in front of me. There was a very limited police presence. I was told by our host that there is no customary tip rate; “just pay whatever feels right to you.” Our AirBNB came with its own industrial-style playground, built by the artist owner. The view of the stars at night were stunning.

I think it really hit home after our encounter with the “stray” dogs. Our first dog visitor followed my daughter and her boyfriend home from their evening stroll into town. He had a sweet face, a polite demeanor and a spirit of adventure. We named him Sam. We didn’t let him into our rental house, fearing fleas or worse. We gave him a bowl of water and he curled up on our porch for the night. In the morning, Sam got leftover eggs and toast for breakfast. We sent a photo to our hostess and she promised to look for the owner.

We headed out to our excursion for the day. When we returned, Sam was gone.

That next evening, another dog followed my daughter and boyfriend home. Upon my interrogation of them, they swore up and down that they did not feed these dogs. This one we called Dusty. We again dutifully sent a photo to our hostess – and I began to wonder if this was a recurring issue in these parts.

After another day of adventure, hiking and eco-tourism, we returned home to find Dusty gone. Our hostess, however, had a report for us. It turns out that Dusty’s owner had been looking all over for him and now they were reunited. Sam, it seems, has been adopted repeatedly by families throughout the town. But Sam never stays put. He prefers the streets, she relayed.

I started to notice that dogs outnumbered cats by at least 50 to 1. Some had collars, most did not. They roamed along the edges of streets and laid spread out on driveways, porches or sidewalks.

Then I noticed something else.

There wasn’t any roadkill.

There were, however, several 3 legged dogs. It seemed that this was a side effect of their free roaming spirit.

I learned that Costa Rica did not have a military. Abolished in 1949, the government has set priorities on strong academic and vocational educational support, universal healthcare, social security, ecological conservation efforts and the development of a free trade zone. See this article for an overview of these key policies.

Its kind of amazing what a country can accomplish when they don’t have to support a military.

Small school houses dotted the rural landscape in the mountains. National curriculums are delivered over the radio for even more remote areas.

I noticed that people seemed content. There was little evidence of homelessness.

Costa Rica is a big destination for eco-tourism. They do not disappoint. Knowledgeable guides are available throughout the country to help you experience and learn about the rich, dense biodiversity of the jungle, rivers and coastal regions of this beautiful country.

A sloth viewed from our guide’s telescopic camera

For example, before heading out on a white water rafting adventure, our briefing included instructions on how to process the food on our tray – separating into returnable utensils, compostable items and recyclable items. They made it clear that you were expected to follow this process so we would minimize the impact we had as we enjoyed the bounty of the wild river.

One day, I noticed that the people walking in the street (and there were many) did not carry anything in their hands. No phones. No coffee cups. No sandwich to be gobbled down later. People simply moved from point A to point B, attending to the business at hand.

In short, there was a harmony in this place. Between government and the people, between neighbors, between people and animals, between every living thing.


The motto repeated throughout the country is “Pura Vida” (Pure Life!). It is a greeting, a good bye and a way of meeting life in harmony. I did not know such a culture was possible in today’s world.



Today, Costa Rica is a popular destination to relocate to. I can understand why.

My big takeaway though was not thinking about moving to this beautiful country with a harmonious culture. I wondered how we might create aspects of this culture right where we live. Can we reprioritize where we spend our money? Can we bring the environment to the forefront of our cultural awareness? Can we drop our phones, coffee cups and sandwiches to be present in this very moment?

For me, it is worth a try.

Culture, Reflections on Life

Prayer for a Thief

Caption: pile of 4x4s stolen from my camp (dog was not taken!)

It was mine.

I worked for it.

The previous owner gave it to me
– perhaps because it was a nuisance
– perhaps because they were grateful for the value I provided.

And you stole it from me.

In the dead of the night,
or under cover of an NDA,
or when I left it unwatched.

Thief!

You knew it was wrong or you would not have hidden your tracks.

You relied on the shadows or your lies to cover your shame.

Perhaps you had a good reason
– a sick family member
– a leaky roof in the winter
– a hungry child…

Or maybe you just did it to add what-was-mine to yours.

Maybe you hoped it would make you feel wealthier, more powerful or less vulnerable.

Whatever your reason, know this…

We are all thieves,
from the time we suckle milk from our mother’s breast,
to the land we purchase, which traces back to stolen meadows and forests,
from the animals and plants we call our own – and sometimes kill for nourishment,
to the final breaths of oxygen we use to furnace our dying body.

And so, Thief … did you take in shame?
or with gratitude?

Did you use it to slake your thirst for greed?
Or did you use it to do good in the world?

We all take,
but next time – maybe you will remember this Prayer.

I wrote it for you.

And I wrote it for me.

When you take next time,
do it with an open heart,
pay it forward to others,
take only what you need –
and practice reciprocity with the world around you.

(Skip Shuda, June 27, 2022)

Culture, Reflections on Life

A Prayer for January 6

Universal Father, Ever-present Mother, Collective wisdom of our highest selves,

I thank you for the grace bestowed upon our family in this experiment of humankind,

Where we declared the self-evident truths of men created equally, endowed with rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,

And founded our country on that promise.

I thank you for the abolition of the stain of slavery and for healing our country after the terrible fight.

I thank you for the progress of civil liberty for women and men and for our unbending commitment to allowing all truths to be spoken.

Our country was born of three masters –  the judicial heart, the legislative mind and the executive torso – set in tension so that none would rise above the other.

For over 228 years, we have peacefully transitioned to new governments.

Thank you for this blessing.

On this day, we are reminded that our Republic is a precious and fragile agreement.

We pray that humanity’s great experiment to grant the will of the people will continue.

Please deliver us from forces that would lay waste to the votes of any citizen.  

Deliver us from complacency and ignorance.  

Provide us with the light of factual information, credible experts and impartial information sources.  Knowledge can light us up and mis-information can corrupt our spirit.

Please help us find our voice in the face of corruption and hatred.

If tyranny is alive, silence is indeed violence.

May our children and the generations beyond, find a world where we decided to invest in our people over corporations.

In the spirit of the Executive, Legislative and Judicial, Amen.

– Skip Shuda, Jan. 6, 2022

Culture, Reflections on Life

Banned: Thrown off the Island by IG and Facebook

Four days without Facebook. Now that I’m mostly retired from the digital marketing world, you’d think I wouldn’t need my social media accounts.

Sometime on Sunday night, bleeding into Monday morning, someone logged into my Facebook account, reset my password and them tunneled into my Instagram account. Once there, the perpetrator did something so egregious that Instagram deleted my account without warning, notifying me with the very non-descript charge of “violation of terms of service”. According the the Instagram help page, this will never happen unless a person has multiple previous violations, which I did not.

Facebook then disabled my account, because my linked Instagram account was deleted – guilt by association.

My requests for review were responded to with auto-responders that I should hear back in 24 hours, which came and went. No further information was provided.

I then turned my attention to examine how often I relied on Facebook or Instagram to fill my day. At least 2-3 times per day, I experience the repeated realization as I try to open my social media icons, “Oops! My account is disabled. ” It seems like these apps are hardwired into my day.

Next, I realized that a new online course I was taking had its discussion group on Facebook. Not to mention the various Facebook groups I was a member of and from which I benefitted through updates, commentary and camaraderie.

Most importantly, my local community group has numerous active groups on Facebook. I’m an admin for many of these groups and need a Facebook account to help out in these groups.

I resolved to return to Facebook, but more thoughtfully than before. But what does that mean?

Facebook is relied upon and baked into our society. It is a “free” utility that we pay through our attention.

This incident feels unjust and out of balance. Someone assaulted me through fraud and caused harm to my digital presence. Now I am largely invisible to part of my world.

I wondered, “have I been erased?”

One friend, out of 1500+, reached out to me through LinkedIn. “Did you quit Facebook? Your account has disappeared.” I explained what had happened.

I was reminded of a quote from the World Trade Center Memorial museum:

“No Day Shall Erase You From the Memory of Time”

– Virgil

The silence of my friends and family is unnerving. Although that I doubt that I am unique in this experience. How many of my friends have reported that “they’ve been hacked” to which I just shrugged and thought, “they’ll be fine – and will be back in moment.”

The default reliance on Facebook, a corporate giant with questionable social motivations, by my community, my teachers and my political leaders is unsettling. Now that I know how utterly unresponsive and opaque their support system is, and how one sided their power is, it seems reckless to empower them with our trust.

My expectation of 24×7 availability to these social media networks is revealing.

So how am I returning thoughtfully?

1) Where possible, I will enable multi-factor authentication for any platform of importance. This will typically mean that I’ll need a password and a code that the app will text to my cell phone, but other modes are possible. This will block most future hack attempts.

2) Any meaningful content I develop will be carried and copied on my personal website and backed up to my computer

3) I will say what I mean, mean what I say and contribute only when I believe it will help influence a more positive future, help someone in need and/or open someone’s mind to new perspectives.

4) I will hold my social media presence lightly – no longer linking social media account and standing ready to regenerate a new account at a moment’s notice. Social Media behemoths can cut my profile with their arbitrary lawn mower but they will not touch my mycelium and, like a mushroom, I will pop up again.

I recently coined a phrase, “Fight like an earthworm.” I’m not even sure I fully understand what that means – but I know that right now, there are millions of earth worms transforming the world around me… unseen but present. Never erased. Always changing. And the soil is richer for them.

My friends David and Deanna created this earthworm shirt. I love it! Thank you, D2.

Shamanism

Preparing for my Paqo Wachu

Who am I?

Who do I want to be?Skip Personal Mandala by Roxi

What must die for a new skin to emerge?

How do you prepare for the unknown?

Step 1: Find an Experienced Guide

My Vision Quest would likely not have happened without the encouragement and guidance from my Shamanic Apprenticeship.  My teacher is my long-time friend Amy Mermaid Isakov.  Over the years, I have sensed that she taps into a wisdom gathered over many lifetimes.   However, her experience in this lifetime as one of the first initiates into the Pachakuti Mesa Tradition provided a strong grounding.   Her own Paqo Wachu is presented on The Heart of the Healer website.

Part of our preparation is done in consultation with our spirit relatives.   In order to learn about where the spirit world recommends we travel, we carried out a series of guided meditations to our “Apu Gia” or “Mountain Spirit Guide”.  My guide took the form of Yoda.  With ageless wrinkles and a sparkling eye, he shared lessons with me to:

Bring Medicine to the Forest
and
Bring Knowledge to the People

We were instructed to prepare by getting all of our matters in order, as if we were going to die.

Step 2: Create My Mandala

For me, part of the self-exploration posed by a Vision Quest involved developing a personal mandala that I had considered for years.   I worked with my artist friend Roxi to develop this mandala, which I also have on a tee shirt!

The mandala includes images from the Pachakuti Mesa Tradition, including a nod to the four sacred directions with wisdom and air in the North, clarity and light in the East,  grounding and earth to the South and the emotional heart, ocean and moon to the West.   The toaist yin-yang symbology is laid upon the foundation upon which I was raised, emphasizing the teachings of Christ.   It represents my spiritual journey through this lifetime.

Step 3: Four Conversations

As we prepare, we are encouraged to speak to four people who can give us important insights on our selves.   These people were asked to speak to my blind spots, to my emerging edge and to share their hearts on what they wished for me.    It was a challenging exercise – and I’m I glad I did it.  I am grateful to the souls willing to share with me.

Step 4: Final preparation

The Vision Quest was three days and two nights.   There was a brief fast prior to departure.   I sketched out my day by day plan in my journal.    I had decided to pursue the destination of Wasp Rock, a magnificent outcropping that I my son and I discovered ten years before.   We were chased away by a swarm of ground wasps, giving it the name “Wasp Rock”.  I had only ever seen it for 5 minutes before.  A full decade had passed.

Could I find it?   Will it be as I had remembered?

As I drove out of town, a wasp landed on my windshield.   I began to pay attention to the signs.

Culture, Reflections on Life

A Return to Middle-aged Thinking

Logic.  Data.  Evidence.

I grew up being taught that these were the gold standards in pursuing an outcome.   Yet, nearly half of the US population seems to have abandoned these standards.

In raging Facebook conversations, person after person claims that our recent US presidential election was stolen, that there is a deep-state conspiracy and that a secret faction of pedophiles rules the Democratic party.

In 1692, the Salem Witch Trials epitomized the height of medieval madness.   A toxic combination of paranoia, magical thinking and fear of the Other led to  the hanging of 19 women from the Salem community.

The lesson of the Salem Witch Trials and the Trump era alike was well articulated when Voltaire (1694-1778) said:

Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities. – Voltaire

For me, a key lesson of the last four years is that logic, data and evidence  (rational thinking) has been a guiding force of decision-making in our society NOT because most people believed it to be true.  It is because most (or at least half) of Americans followed their leaders’ examples – and most of our political leaders (in both parties) accepted  rational thinking as a given.

Before Trump, our leaders were subject to scrutiny based on their ability to (1) argue a point convincingly, (2) craft rational policy, and (3) conduct themselves civilly throughout their lives.   Even President Nixon, who resigned in disgrace after covering up the Watergate burglary, subjected himself to such scrutiny by releasing his tax returns.   Every presidential candidate since Nixon has followed this precedent.   Until Donald Trump’s candidacy, it was considered a disqualifier if a candidate failed to publicly share his or her tax returns.

Donald Trump turned that upside down.   By building on grievances of a shrinking white populace, Trump created a loyal base that was willing to support him without reason:

…I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose any voters, okay?
– Donald J Trump
and he did not lose any voters.   In spite of a failed pandemic response, the death of hundreds of thousands of Americans, countless atrocities against  immigrants (“The Other”), our environment and progress in social justice, over 74 Million Americans voted for Donald Trump in the November 2020 election.  This was the most votes ever received by an incumbent President.

But Joe Biden got even more, with over 81 Million American votes – and, more importantly, a definitive electoral college win.

And Trump lost.

And he fought reality one more time.   He denied the election results, even after all 50 states certified the vote, some after multiple recounts.

He fought in the courts… and lost.

He called Republican Secretary of States and Governors to illegally change the election results… and was rebuffed.

And he called on his people to the storm the Capitol and stop the certification of the Biden victory… and they did.   Fortunately, the invaders failed to stop the certification.  The US constitutional wisdom held forth against the assault.

The effect was similar to a mud-caked bed of rocks being showered by an enormous storm.   The storm washed away all of the muck and laid bare the cold stones that support the Trump worldview no matter what.

Each stone of unflinching support is uncovered as rational law, laid down by the US Constitution,  meets irrational followership.  Examples of this remarkably clear exposure are unfolding daily.

Its like we suddenly have a magic “tin-foil hat detector” to see who will lap up the irrational conspiracy vomit regardless of what is found in the chunks on the floor.

They include:
  • The vote to de-certify the election results by 138 US Representatives and 8 US Senators.
  • The collusion by government officials currently under investigation to invite a weakened Capitol target.
  • Renegade members of our local police, fire departments and government who invaded the US Capitol on January 6, 2021.
  • Our friends, family and neighbors who support the invasion and Trump even after the first serious US  insurrection since the Civil War.

This morning, a friend asked me how long we have to live with this?   Will this great American division between reality and conspiracy live with us for decades?

We could look to the past.   Denying the Church doctrine or being a known atheist was once considered blasphemy, which resulted in a death sentence.   Over time, those laws faded away to more rational laws and in 1787, the Founding Fathers of the US Constitution embodied the latest thinking into their vision for a new Democratic Republic.  It had been over 90 years since the Salem Witch trials.

But what’s the saying?
The past does not repeat itself, but it often rhymes.

 

 We live in 2021.  The digital world permeates most aspects of our daily existence.   The corporate giants of today control data networks, databases and digital prosthetics for all of humanity.  In fact, so much of our existence is built on science and technology, it seems impossible that a Trump era could exist!

But this new era is here.   And we are neighbors and family and friends with Trump supporters.   So, I’ll look to another time when our country was so divided… and listen to the wisdom of the American President, Abraham Lincoln:

We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature. – Abraham Lincoln

We must return to the table with each other. We need to return to a conversation grounded in reason, not rhetoric. In coming together, we must hold each other accountable to bring the better angels of our nature to include grace, equity, good will, justice, compassion and rational thinking to our future endeavors together.
Culture

Police: Why Law Enforcement should not be their focus

We use “Law Enforcement” interchangeably with police, FBI, DEA and ATF officers.    They are all authority figures who are charged with enforcing laws within our communities.   However, in the case of police, they often have “protect and serve” emblazoned on the side of police cruisers.   Less often, we refer to these public servants as “Peace Officers”, which seems in keeping with protect and serve as the mission.

I could spend time making the case that our police are too focused on enforcing laws and not enough on creating peace in our communities.    But its really self-evident.   Just look at the data.  The US population is the most heavily incarcerated population in the world!

We’ve created a prison industrial complex that lobbies for more prisons, more “shelf-space” and, therefore, a demand for more “product”.   But increasing prison beds and putting human beings in them is an inhumane business objective.   We are literally destroying the fabric of our society.

Yet, we frequently experience police presence in our community as individuals seeking to enforce the laws.     If a young person is found intoxicated, haul ’em off to the station and charge them with underage drinking.   Wouldn’t it be better to try to contact the parents and work out a solution that doesn’t leave the child with a record?

If you consider that the child’s new criminal record is part of a feeder system for the prison industry, then you see why the system is biased to make the arrest.

Until we start a serious conversation with our local district attorneys, prosecutors and police forces, the suffering will continue.  And we’ll continue to see confrontations that don’t make sense at the basic human level.

 

 

Culture, Reflections on Life

A daughter is married while another is buried

(June 2017)

My heart is opening like a vast black cavern into which everything tumbles, sucking and pulling

A tweet is twisted into a taunt is twisted into a terrorist tumbling into a tethered, vicious anger  that runs loose over on a baseball field in blood and terror

And the music plays under a star-filled evening, a gracious drifting smile and warm embrace… with tears of happiness, remembrance and pride

And “One Manchester” plays in the background,  “Don’t go forward in anger, love spreads”

And two proud, black officers step into the bullets,  they don’t shout “Not my President!”,  they don’t live their lives as “Not my problem”.   It IS their problem…. And they believe that the country that brought them to this field deserves them… and I pray that it does

And the anger is cut down with more bullets

As Ariana takes the stage… beautiful, orchestrated and syncopated… wailing voice, a pony tail pinned tiara on her head…

And today’s rising starlet steps up to the bombers,  she doesn’t shout “Down with ISIS” because you know that Mother Theresa would never speak out against anything.   It IS her problem, and she can bring healing through music… so she does.

I can see my friends then, dressed in black by their baby’s grave site… I wonder if they got the gray day it deserved… but I worry they felt taunted by the sunlight.   Probably not, because it IS their family… and they rejoiced in her memory and take solace in their faith as they start the healing process…

I remember the Amish funerals for the five little girls … murdered in their schoolhouse.   And the Amish community invited the killer’s family, because it IS their problem and that family was suffering too.   I felt a tear fall from Jesus’ eyes on that day… and his heart opened even a little bit more.

“Laughter is carbonated holiness”*.  So I kick off my shoes and drop off my coat on the warm, summer bridal night.   She is always dancing… at least in her head.   So I join her in the cool, lush grass … and the music stops.   We laugh.

“… so now we have to teach our youngest children how to survive an active shooter scenario… “,

And the Islamic State lines the streets of Raqqa with the heads of infidels…

While we rock the fences and bang on the walls that divide us… frothing at the mouth … God help us when the walls fall down and we are face to face with our brothers and sisters, ready to kill an idea but faced with a human…

And the Black Eyed Peas ask, “Where is the love” … “need some guidance from above”… Hey!  Dude!  We REALLY need some help down here.  Are you watching?

Naw… no answer on that line. We’ve met the enemy and it is us.  We’ve met God and He is us.  We own this.

But I’ve seen love that moves mountains… I’ve seen people step in bullets… step into bombs… open their homes to strangers… meet refugees at airports … and just get out of bed on the days that matter most.

I can’t imagine how things could get worse… but they will.   I can’t imagine how things will change more, but they will.   I can’t imagine a beginning more beautiful, but there will be.

Maybe that’s my problem… if I just open my heart and imagine.   Like little 23 year Ariana Grande, who filled her broken heart with a concert called “One Manchester”… because she could imagine.

We can imagine too.   We can smile first and ask questions later.  We can extend a hand to help someone who is hurting … even if it’s because someone they love did a very bad thing.   We can rekindle friendships that were casualties of this war.

There will be other daughters buried… but others will be married.   We have to show up for both of them… and show what true love is all about.

We got this.

 

 

 

  • Laughter is carbonated holiness – Anne Lamott