Okay. Let me say that I am not usually partial to walking in cold wet air that has droplets of bone-chilling moisture suspended in mid-sentence, as if the rain suddenly paused itself.

My morning started off excellently considering that I felt like________. I'm still working on reducing my expletives. Last night at dinner I mentioned a sweet eight week old puppy I met on my walk yesterday and I couldn't help saying that, yes she was adorable and also she was a bitch. Yep. That's where I'm at. Gosh. Hopeless, isn't it? Still, I try. A little.

So here's how the day started out excellently: I woke up in a snuggle with my husband, who rubbed my back and squeezed those little muscles between my shoulder blades, before reading my mind and going out early to bring me coffee. They say husband's can't read minds, but give it fourteen years and a lot of patience and it starts occurring with funny little things. Maybe it's just knowing each other. Maybe it's Maybelline. Damn that commercial is memorable. I did, however, just buy two new Dr. Hauschka lipsticks. Can you believe there is actually a facial care and cosmetics company that has exactly the same mission as me in different words? They do. They use less nasty stuff than any other company and they are all about healing humanity and the planet. Gosh, I should work for them. I don't though. I'm not even an associate. I don't make any money at all for telling people they're fabulous. I just love to promote stuff I believe in. Like love. I believe in love. Not the hormone-driven lust to possess and thrust that drives people to murder one another out in fits of primal something or other. I'm talking about the kind of love that wants the best for each person. The kind of love that recognize the spark of pure wonderfulness in the center of every heart, whether or not its got some grime over it. Which probably could be cleansed and evened out with a lot of forgiveness and a Dr. Hauschka product or two.

My mother used Dr. Hauschka all through my growing up years, and I was resistant to using them myself all through my twenties and early thirties. But when I hit thirty three, I started my ministry. No wait, that was Jesus.

I started getting enough distance from my trauma with my mother to begin separating out good things I got from her, like her youthful spirit, her guts to stand for what she believes in and her common sense to use Dr. Hauschka. Only this week when I went to order a new lipstick did I realize Dr. Hauschka has the same mission as me in fewer words: "To support the healing of humanity and the earth."

As for why I was feeling under the weather, well, this post isn't about that. Just think of your own reasons so you can empathize and then move on. The story is not about feeling like_________

It's about taking a walk in a vertical sheet of cold humidity on the chilliest day of fall so far, while feeling under the weather. Like I've said before, my life is almost always a metaphor. My physical word nearly always mirrors the exact situation predominating inside of me.

I thought about asking my man for ride - after all he was leaving at approximately the same time. But I felt led not to, so I just let that one go by, wished him luck on the talk he's giving about chronic pain to a bunch of admin people, and stared at my shoe rack trying to decide whether to wear boots, hiking shoes or purple sandals. If it's sufficiently cold to warrant a fall hat,  purple sandals probably should not be on the list of footwear possibilities. After enough mulling to make some tasy apple cider, I chose the hiking shoes I got a few month ago from REI to join a group hike with some of the most delightful people walking this earth at the present moment. When a group of diverse, positive people get together to climb a muddy trail and connect meaningfully and with robust, good natured laughs, life is GOOD! I'll link a pic of that hike below so you can get in on the yummy nature vibes of people being the best of what humans can be.

Hiking shoes on, I grabbed my shiny periwinkle jacket and an almost matching hat my Sweetie got me a couple of lifetimes ago when he was interviewing for residencies and stopped in a local fair trade shop. The hat is 11 and a half years old and looks almost as good as new.

When I stepped outside it was almost as cold as a walk-in freezer. It wasn't raining. It had rained all night, but like I said, the rain seemed to have stopped to look around for a minute. Maybe it's like when you have a good cry, and sometimes you have to interrupt yourself to get a tissue or use the bathroom or change your babies diapers, make a phone call or be a functional person and go to work. Some people spend so much time adulting that its hard to take a break and have a much needed cry. Wouldn't it be nice if offices scheduled emotional processing time, (crying totally okay) along with having nice rooms for breastfeeding and a daily nap or meditation for employees? I rather think productivity would go up rather than down. I read a few years ago in an elite publication that meditation was considered a coveted executive skills - the most important one, in fact. Other people will find help in pausing from a lifetime of crying about their pain, pausing instead to appraise the situation from a more objective point of view. I have a view of personal evolutionary growth that entails walking up the steps of an upward spiral. With one step you heal the past, with the other step you create the future in alignment with your highest self. You keep doing these simple steps.

I took a few steps out into the wet cold air and decided to just embrace it. Along the way I suddenly decided to stop and make a video about emotions in perspective. You can see it here.

By the time I arrived at the coffee shop, I felt the cold wet in my bones, but my spirits were feeling much freer and cheerier. I arrived in the parking lot of the coffee shop and before I even made it inside, a huge smile spread across my face and probably past the Madison town lines. If you are reading this somewhere else in the world, it is a smile that has stretched across the world, and I love you for that!

 
This what triggered the smile around the world, that one that made at least ten lives better: I saw a white car.

What? That doesn't make you smile so wide you spread it like butter over all the toast you can get it on with your own personal spread factor? Okay, there's a little more to it.

On the rump of the white car my sight landed on a bumper sticker that sums up the goal of life in my world: "Just love everybody."

Grinning boldly, I went inside my nearest local coffee shop. My bones were wet and cold and my nose resembled an attempt to pull off impersonations of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer for that event we celebrate on October 31st wherein all manner of people dress up and put pumpkins on their door steps and collectively indulge in excessive sugar mania. I have my Wonder Woman costume almost all set. But then a part of me is thinking of NOT dressing up.
Accessories can help one get into character, but energy is what really pops a bang. I mean, just think about the Big Bang. Does anyone care what God was wearing when a tiny part of her decided to unfurl the universe in a huge unraveling of a ball of cosmic yarn that had been packed tighter way tighter than spandex on a biker's butt?

Though you could say the universe IS her outfit, the appearance that inspires perceptual realities of all kinds imaginable to the bravest imagination.

One thing I have realized is that when we learn to hold the energy of our archetypes, it doesn't matter our appearance. And as if in confirmation of my insight, my headband broke this morning. Like water breaking for a birth, except way less wet and non painful. Just a simple snap of the sowing. I often experiment with taking my horn on and off and have noticed that overall people react much more to the energy I carry than the horn at this point. I often go out in no makeup, more pimples than my adolescent and messy hair and still strangers smile at me, with me, responding to the joy available in the moment of blessing we share in our life-affirming energy meeting one another.

When it catches people off guard that I'm not wearing a horn spouting off  my skin-covered front cortex in the physical realm of experience, it does occur that certain people feel flustered initially. But they learn. First they ask for it, in more or less words. I tell them it's still there. I use humor, love and badassery to teach to see it, whether they actually *see* it which a few people can, or they have a knowing its there that is as good as seeing it, like kissing with your eyes closed and knowing the person you love is there.

So there I was, just me, no accoutrements, as I came to stand in line behind a lovely middle aged white woman. A moment later, she turned her sparkling eyes to face me, and said, smiled openly and making meaningful eye contact. "My, isn't the weather something?" Within 30 seconds we went from discussing the cold wet weather to discussing co-creating heaven on earth, along with elevators and bridges to invite other people to join us. We spoke of recognizing how badly things are going in the world and yet how we are here yet in "another place." The owner of the coffee shop came over and hugged us both. We all stood there pumping out the love vibe. The circle grew. On the periphery several people were joining in from a distance. The three of us chatted about wood stoves and seasons and kindness - and how some people are afraid to connect. We stood in line and embodied the value of love.

As I reached the counter and placed my order. The  barista looked up at me and said, "I can see it." He is one of the one's I've trained to understand that my unicorn horn is always there, not predicated on a physical version of itself to be real. The woman had just told me her name is Erika, and she thought he meant that he could see the heaven on earth we were living into, co-creating right there at the EVP Sequoia coffee shop. She was, of course 100% correct. In fewer than five minutes - less time than it takes for a short line up for coffee to get me from the back of it to the front of it, we'd gathered four people to say "Yes" and "Amen" to a love-based world of heaven on earth. I did go on to explain to my new friend that he was also referring to my unicorn horn - the one I always have. She glimmered, touched her middle of the space between her gentle eyebrows and laughed. "I thought I saw something coming out of there!"

Our tatooed barista said, "I can't believe you two don't know each other." And the woman looked me in the eye said, "We DO know each other. I agreed. We held that eye contact and smiled as spirit recognized itself. Its the one of the most fun aspects of earth life when our friends and colleagues from other planes of existence meet us in coffee shop on a cold wet day, and suddenly the cold and the wet don't matter.

Coffee warming my palm, I went outside. But something nudged me to stay a bit longer, linger in the wet just a few minutes more before walking home. And then the white car with the sticker in red lettering, "Just Love Everybody," started backing out. I jaunted over like a cross between a gazelle and a hyperactive kid. The owner of the coffee shop was driving that car, unsurprisingly. I had wondered if it was hers. And I told her how the bumper sticker had made my day, how I LOVED it. And she looked at me and said these Mother Theresa-worthy words:

"Why decide? Why even thinking about who is worthy and who is not? Just love everybody."

Alicia Kwon offers world class speaking, training, coaching and healing to people of all ages and backgrounds. She is dedicated to unconditional love and known for being a badass when necessary.

This is not an article about saving humanity. It's a piece about lunch. More accurately, it's a story about what happened right before lunch. But let's talk about food first. I ordered a sumptuous hot chick sandwich and my children had gobblers. The book you see is the Sophia Code, and it's one of my favorites. Two of out three of my kids can take time off their regularly scheduled or unscheduled activities to nosh and chill during day; the other is a highly motivated freshmen at a local public school. My other two unschool. As in an impromptu lunch is about as much structure as I supply. My son creates his own schedule for each day in the morning. My daughter does like Mama: whatever the eagle's nest she wants. I substituted eagles nest in that beautiful spot for an expletive because I am looking for less crass ways to express my incredible freedom from the desire to conform. My attempt to clean up my language without sacrificing freedom may or may not increase your hope for humanity, but if it does, so be it. At least the attempt makes me more creative. I've always admired comedians who can be clean and funny. It takes more, somehow.

I suggested the three of us go to Crema, a family favorite on the East Side of Madison, right before you enter Monona. You pass the lake to get there, and the street where Tony Robinson was killed by an officer, which is right near Willy Street Co-op East, where you can buy incense, organic produce and bulk yogurt covered pretzels. I'm not into yogurt covered pretzels, bulk or otherwise, but occasionally I look at them in the plexiglass case and stare. Is that rude? If you have ever looked at life from the vantage point of a yogurt covered pretzel, please weigh in.

Eventually, if go past all that, the road becomes less crowded and even changes names. Then you see a new part angle of lake on one side of the road, with a volleyball net, and sometimes you can spot bikers on the pathway that parallels the lake and canoes and paddles boards out on the water. On the other side the street is Olbrich Botanical Gardens. On a whim, it felt right to go, and the kids agreed it w should go first, before lunch. It's always harder for us to enjoy going after lunch, because once our bellies are full of Crema food, we almost always want to go home and be lazy.

As I pulled up into the parking lot, drove all the way around the abundant handicap spaces and found a perfect spot, our sun shone especially brightly, gracing the air with a crisp, delightful quality like liquid crystal: cool on the outside, yet warm on the inside. This sparking light seemed to add a glow to each scene available to absorb it, shining off the twinkling tree leaves, the buildings, the cheeks of people walking - everything in sight, like bath of unobtrusive sun light upon all, without exception.

We walked up the sidewalk toward a pot overflowing with the beauty of a living still life, wafting gently in the hint of a breeze, with tiny blue blossoms and pink flowers mixed with kale rippling like greenish purple lace, a dragonfly flew directly across our path. A good omen. I told the kids I thought it was a good sign. You have to walk into the lobby of the building in order to exit to the outdoor gardens, which are open to the public free of cost. My daughters have a long standing argument about reality that used to be heated and is now funny. They both have utterly distinct and different recollections of whether one of them used the bathroom in the lobby on a family outing to Olbrich.

Once you open the heavy doors to the gardens, you'll see an area with tables on the left, with a large brass sculpture of a tortoise reminding you to slow down. Or perhaps thinking of snapping off the arm of anyone who brings in Mcdonalds and litters it there. Ahead is a circular open field of grass, surrounded by a gray brick walk way that encases it. The sky above feels so round and expansive, it is easy to remember we are a little snow globe. Or flower pollen globe. Or birds shitting from the sky globe. Oh whoops. I meant to keep this clean. Okay, back to  the last one: It could also be fall globe, still partly green, with gorgeous multicolored leaves, really rocking out the the deep sunlit yellows. This fall has been about the yellows. Certainly I have seen red and the prettiest peach colored ones and brown ones mostly decomposed into little threads of earth-colored leaf-lace doilies - but by far, yellows are taken the prize.

Today in particular the yellows are stunning. The way the sun glints off the trees in my neighborhood is so beautiful I can't believe anyone can concentrate on anything else. As we took the path that heads left at Olbrich, most everything was still green. It was just barely yellowing at the tips. I almost feel like, against all odds, the three of us had somehow found ourselves in a semi-tropical oasis in the middle of October.

The first creature I saw was a cute little grasshopper. He's hiding in the picture below. Soon I spotted bees, dragonflies and a little girl wearing heart-shaped sunglasses. I complimented her on her love glasses. I think I need a pair of those. Her mother had purple hair. Gardens are full of color!

Up ahead, a water sprinkle was misting a display of lush greenery. In it was a glistening rainbow, and overhead white birds glided in graceful cuts across the sky.

I gazed with glee at the rainbow for sometime. I mean, how often does a unicorn walk into a garden and there is quite literally a rainbow? If you can't see the horn in the pics, don't worry, I just have the invisible version on. I stared and stared, smiling at the rainbow until my children got bored. That beautiful light shimmering from the human spray of water sure seemed like a sign of hope. I mean, it was a human made rainbow; an ultimate expression of the hope we can have when human beings work with the elements of nature in a way that, with a small bit of luck and the ever-present grace of the angels, spouts innocent,
playful beauty, welcoming all to enjoy it without discrimination. It's even a free outdoor garden. It left an expression of wonder and gratitude on my soul.

At Creme you order first, then take a seat. As soon as we approached the counter, the young woman taking our order leaned in confidentially and said, "The kitchen staff is having a rough day. I told them you're here if they need some good energy."

Crema is a funny place. They have pictures of whimsical things made out of fruits and vegetables, a combination of square and rectangular wooden tables and old school long diner tables with trounded corners rimmed in silver metallic edges on the thick siding. As I sat down with my kids I noticed a picture of a banana and then I noticed another image next to it with what looked a banana impersonating an airplane. At first I shook off the impression and laughed with my kids. "For a second there, I though I saw a a flying banana, but it's actually and airplane." Then I looked closer. Upon deeper inspection it was a banana impersonating an airplane. Once we had settled in at our table, and were waiting for our food, the kids and I set about playfully engaging in "thumb peaces" - instead of thumb wars.

A little while later I looked up and saw in the distance toward the back of the counter space, a very cranky looking woman in a really cool-looking blue apron having a tense interaction with two of the other employees. I sent her some good energy from afar and kept having fun with the kids. A few minutes passed. And then she walked over toward our table and on to the door, opened it, then closed it. Upon her return approach, I complimented her cool blue apron, and smiled. She stopped, looked it and said, "I rather like it myself. But it belongs to Crema." There was some emotion there - was it resentment toward her employer - perhaps a lack of feeling of ownership over her work and the tools she uses for it? Who knows. But I said, "Well that can't stop you from rocking it out!" And smiled boldly. She cracked her hard exterior and laughed. She smiled, lifted her head high and said something along the lines of "Damn straight." I saw her smiling from behind the counter area for employees little later. In fact, I noticed that everyone in the cafe was smiling and laughing. Before we left, I went up to the woman who initially had clue me in that the kitchen staff was having a tough time of it, and offered a hug, which she gladly accepted. I it was one of those long, awesome hugs that make you glad there are good people in the world, on top of rainbows, great kids, yummy food and sun-dappled leaves.

Humaning. Obviously a bane to the existence of unicorns, or you'd see more of us around. Another related word: Adulting. Compound that with "Techological Difficulties" and then seal that last one with the word "Intractable," and you have a recipe for a frustrated unicorn. An inconvenienced unicorn, kicking up her hoofs and blowing air from her appreciably flared nostrils. Yes, having to operate in a three dimensional world where things kind of plod along and and various factors external to one's control feel like an unwelcome pull on reins I didn't agree to. Sovereignty. A unicorn value. Divine Surrender. Another.

It is nothing like a tragedy or a disaster. And I know the world is facing every possible kind of difficulty, including lots of tragedies and disasters. Here is how I relate to that: on an individual level, if I meet a suffering person, I hold them with deep compassion. I stop for strangers crying, I ask them if they are okay, I ask if I can give them a hug, I listen to the and offer to help if I can. If, as an empath I am "feeling" what is in the collective, I spend time in surrender, surrounding myself with golden light so that is what I surrender into as I allow all the emotions to be accepted, and yet to move through and gently, naturally realign without effort. Other than that, I figure somebody needs to make sure this world is fueled with a viable long term fuel. And that is why my first commitment is to co-creating love, gratitude and joy in the world I inhabit, step by step. And to make those steps a bit more joyful, add cute boots! I bought them last year for the DAIS fashion show. I had a friend who modeled back in the days I was a figure skater, and she told me slightly scornfully, but not intentionally meanly that I was too short to be a model. It left me with a bit of insecurity I had never felt about being short before that. Not that I ever wanted to be super tall. Being short never bothered me. I was only ever bothered when other people seemed to have some weird reaction to it, like either using me as an armrest or calling me shortie or telling me I could never model. Anyone can model, because we are always showcasing our values - not only in what we wear, how it is sourced and how we look in it, but in how we carry our light, our love, our dark, our struggles, our judgments and our truest, most dominating qualities of being. The ones that shine through are the ones we cultivate. Which wolf do you feed? Everyone in my family's looks are profoundly influenced by how we are doing on the inside. It's just a strange fact about us. We look better when we are shining our beautiful inner light strongly, and our looks just dim when our lightbulb needs changing, or we've just forgotten to switch it on, or someone has been pressing the "off" switch and we haven't bothered to kick them out of our space yet. The light we "are" can't actually be turned off, but the amount that shines through our human electric form can be turned off, put on dimmer, or allowed to shine and illuminate everyone in the room. Yes, that is a power we all have! And I was really nervous to walk down the runway in the DAIS fashion show, not because I am afraid to let people see my light, but because I was really afraid, seriously afraid, of literally falling on my face. Although I had a twinge of insecurity left over from that old comment about my physical stature, my main issue was seriously that I can be super klutzy when walking, especially if people are watching. At summer camp one year when I was 14, I walked straight into a telephone pole because there was a cute boy walking behind me. My worst figure skating injuries always just klutzy moments, not during challenging jumps. But I walked the runway to support my favorite fair trade store and a charity that helps women who have experienced Domestic Violence. I did it. I did it. I got out there on the runway for a good cause,  and I got lots of compliments on my cute boots. Most of the other ladies weren't nervous about falling down, but when I started dancing backstage, it took them a while to realize it was okay for them to groove as well; however, pretty soon, a ton of us where dancing - realizing it's okay to have fun, that modeling didn't have to be serious. And neither does modeling a joyful life, even when inconvenienced!

I cannot begin to describe all the wonderful things that happened to me just walking around Hilldale mall, but let me try. The music. I love the music they pelt from speakers mounted next to shop awnings. It's always something upbeat...something I can walk to, feeling in my element, something I can even dance to sitting on a bench. Which I did. The pumpkin and cornhusk displays are so pretty, and the sky always looks great to me from the Hilldale Mall, whether it's cloudy or sunny. And the Apple Store. And the People. Yeah, there are a few zombies. But I meet so many people who return my heartfelt, invigorated smile of joy; so many people who let me glimpe their gorgeous soul for a precious moment of human divinity. I have never seen shop owners happier to see someone who doesn't even buy anything than when I peak my head in and just smile and maybe make a joke, give a compliment or tell them I'm just around to spread some joy and some love. It is amazing to watch! People are so starved for that! And many are ready to play there - and often not the people you'd expect. So if you're feeling frustrated with the people in your networks or "circles" - try. going outside them. You maybe joyfully surprised where you find synergy and alignment where you'd least expect it.

For example, before the DAIS fashion shoe, I was really not into shoes. In fact, I judged people who were. I associated them with New Jersey materialism. The same people who complimented my new Prius and came over to petted it, while ignoring my new babies seemed obsessed with shoes and handbags. The mothers with designer diaper bags and strollers who seemed to center their conversations, well, designer things generally, as if they were actually important. Which deepend my commitment to shopping only at thrift stores and owning fewer than four pairs of shoes total at any given time. I've since realized anything we reject, we'll get the opportunity to befriend. Since I needed to go to the Apple Store, but there was this cute shoe store on the way, on a whim, or maybe a whisper, I pulled on the golden brass door of glass and walked inside. There was a woman and a man working there and there eyes shone bright. Real unicorns, I tell you. There was a cute pair of shoes...they didn't have them in the color and size I wanted, and I wasn't really there to buy shoes anyway. Just to share smiles. When they brought over a pair in a color I wasn't jiving with in my spirit, I said, "I'm just not feeling it" and they were completely embracing of that and just super happy I came by. I didn't have to buy to befriend. Then again, someday I may be seen in those designer shoes if the moment strikes and the size is right. Because it doesn't matter. I am the same in my ratty pajamas or my "put together" outfits, or the outfits that are so outrageous they set the standard for not caring one way or the other. It's all the same, and I've found increasingly that as I own that, people treat me the same regardless of what I'm outfitted in. Sometimes I shave, sometimes I don't. I wear whatever the fuck I want - or more accurately - what I want that aligns with my Spirit. Occasionally my personality has a thought of what I want to do or wear or say and my Spirit nixes it. I'm okay with that. Personal sovereignty without divine surrender is like a cancer cell - it's just egos on a self-aggrandizing rampage that ends of harming the overall organism. We all need our growth checked by our higher power to ensure it is growth that is helpful to the wellbeing of whole and not ego-personality cancer, out of control and usurping our lifeblood to make more of its harmful dysfunction. On the flip, I do my very best to ensure the higher power I check with is not that of conditioned society, which loves to stamp out new ideas that threaten the status quo, like a caterpillar that thinks "caterpillar" is a permanent state of being and resists climbing the tree, building the chrysalis and surrendering into the goo, trusting the emergence of the imaginal cells latent in its own encoding to re-create its form anew as a magnificent flying, ascending, pollinating thing of beauty, otherwise known as a butterfly.

When I finally made it to the Apple Store, I brought bunches of smiles and was invited to have a seat to have a go at the internet. While there, I witnessed something beautiful: a seriously awesome manhug. From all the looks of it, platonic, yet deeply valuing of one another, comfortable in the hug; really, genuinely glad to connect with one another profoundly. Fuck yeah. I smiled. I had nothing much to do while my files uploaded, so I eavesdropped. I think I really started paying attention to their conversation when I heard Harry Potter. It turned out one had come late to the Harry Potter world and the other said something about how if you weren't a fan, some people would say that makes you not a good person. I piped up, "My daughter would agree with you on that. She is horrified by anyone who is not a devoted fan." And I shared that I too was a latecomer, because I don't really tend to buy things when they are fads. I bypass altogether or just scope it out on my own terms in my own time and way. The two men resonated. I also shared with them how much it meant to be me to witness positive, authentic masculine affection, and how healing I think modeling that is for our culture. One of the man smiled a robust smile and said, "I'll hug him anytime." And the guy nodded and said, "Oh yeah," in a deep, manly voice. No compromise of manhood. Just a braver, more heart-filled version expressing itself. Hallelujia.

Which reminds me, we watched How to Train Your Dragon the other night. A brilliant treatise on reinterpreting masculinity, courage and integrity...so many adult lessons in a kid flick about a boy and a dragon and huge viking men. Hiccup is one of my heroes. He isn't a wuss. He's driven my compassion instead of rage or fear, testosterone or tribal identification. His courage is willingness to risk his own life, yet it refuses to take another. Reminds of a few other heroes of mine. Can you list them?

So there's all this great juju between these two burly, kindly, sparkling-eyed men and between all of us as we groove on Harry Potter, and on healing the masculine in our culture. It's awesome and...they gotta get back to work. One is a consultant, the other is a genius. Or something. I just think of all the Apple employees as geniuses. And technologically. compared to me, well they basically automatically are, at least relatively to me as the reference point. I don't mind. I like asking other people for help and receiving it, just as much as I like sharing my gifts with others who need them. We all need each other. Blessings multiply when shared, just as sorrows are halved by those who know how to hold space in in love and give a hug, a compassionate look or a kind word that is timely and delivered free of projection. Yes, that's key. Getting free of projection, or as close to it as possible. I hardly ever tell anyone about my problems because most people want to either give unsolicited advice or they want to project their own experiences and end up telling a story that makes it about them, without realizing they've diverted and gone off into their own territory, trying to drag me along. I do the same things to other people, but I try really hard to catch myself and shift back to being the listener I want to see in the world. It's all about practice, not perfection. We got this.

So there I was. I went back to staring at my screen as my stuff uploaded, but hardly a few moments wafted past before a lovely older gentlement smiled from across the rectangular lightwood table and said that he liked my horn. We entered into a dialogue about what my horn means, and about his work as a graphic designer, and somewhere in there he asked if I was American. I said I was, and that I have a pretty universal heart. I asked him the same. He replied, "American." I told him he had a bit of an international flavor to him, at which point he shared that his parents were from another country. Now my first thought was Italy, but then my rational mind jumped in and wondered if perhaps his parents were missionaries. He answered that they were not missionaries. He gave me a hint: "It's an Island in the Mediterranean. "Greece?" I asked. Wrong on me. During the time of our conversation, at one point I had removed my horn. It caught him off guard and he missed it. I told him it's always there whether you can see it or not. I put it back on. Then removed it and asked him if he could see it. Finally, he said "Yes, I can see it now." I said I needed a similar bit of help to learn him, and that he would need to tell me where he was from. "Sicily." he said after a short span of waiting to see if I would get it first. Of course I didn't. I absolutely suck at geography. I love people from other places but I haven ever been able to fall in love with maps. Not ever. It was my worst subject in school when I was young. "Ahah!" Said I. "My first guess was going to be Italy." And he looked at me straight in the eye and said, "And I would have said no. Because I am Sicilian." "Yes," I said, "Because you are Sicilian." And we laughed. By then my files were uploaded and I was off. A security officer grinned at me posing for a picture in front of a gathering of bright sun-colored little flowers, and two young black men very respectfully complimented my smile on the way to my car. I went home to my children and my husband and was greeted with vegetarian sushi, hugs and a heart full of joy, love and gratitude.

Inconvenience was thick that day, but joy was prevailed. FUCK YEAH!

The mundane was the catalyst for the magic I co-created out and about. I would never have had so much fun or brought joy to so many people - from the man in the purple tie who was sadly smoking a cigarette alone, to the old woman with the pretty periwinkle jacket who was totally not expecting a compliment and a big smile, eye to eye, soul to soul - if I hadn't been deeply inconvenienced, with no sign of respite for 48 or more hours trying upload a video I made to help the world. If you want to watch the videos, click on "shop" or go to "free videos" to see the one that is available free, just because you are awesome and I do my best to spread awesomeness like it's contagious. Because it is. Love you!

I was sitting on the leather couch in the hotel lobby where my love and my son were playing in a tournament. I am entirely surrounded by Indians. Which is not surprising since chess originated in India, and a large percentage of the chess junkies in our geographical area happen to be of Indian descent. An elderly Indian woman sat looking out from eyes that seemed glazed by a somewhat stranded, blank expression, interrupted only by tapping away on her phone. Several times I looked up and smiled. Nothing back. Blank stare. No willingness to connect. I tried three times, with no response. Normally I'd move on. But some inner impetus stood me up and walked me over to Narinda. Well, I didn't know her name at the time - of course I didn't .I am only psychic about the names of stuffed animals, and only once in a blue moon. I bent over, almost kneeling and asked her what her name was. Immediately the lights went on. The window shade that had been blankly drawn to keep out the outside world and whatever it meant for her lefted abruptly and with obvious relief. She lightly reached for my hand and grabbed it ever so softly. "Narinda." We smiled at each other long. She told me about her grandaughter, Simran, playing in the chess tournament, and how she always comes. I told her about my son and husband playing. She told me that Simran means "One who seeks God." And I told her how my oldest's name, Nika, means "belonging to God." And she kept holding me hand and looking into my eyes. She said, "Thank you. Thank you."  And then she asked me where I was from and I said, "What do you mean?" I never know how to answer that question. I can be comfortable any place in the universe where people smile at strangers and make soul contact as a way of life. But home? I just don't know. I nearly answered, "The stars." "What city do you live in?" came her answer to my request for clarity. "Madison." She thanks me again and we hugged.

I have noticed lately that it is a tiny bit harder to reach out to connect soulfully with people recently. More people walking through life in a zone that is different enough from mine that they more or less experience me as invisible, and on the flip, I can't access the place in them that I normally can find in people; the place of spirit meeting spirit. Namaste. That word always makes me think of telling a dog to stay. Nama, STAY!. But you know what I mean. Soulful contact is what makes life more than flesh tubes eating, pooping and pressing against each other to exchange genetic information and make slightly variant flesh tubes to to more eating and pooping and pressing. For real. Is that all there is? Soulful connection includes and transcends biological existence and it's preservation through biological propogation via tube pressing and smaller tube insertion into squishy opening for the pulsating generation of a new file of data to be used for making the tube of life.

It is so easy to see people we can't immediately get a human reaction from, or those who are different from us "those people." The ones we get to wrote or dehumanize as bonies - those so consumed by the plague of calicified hatred, intentional ignorance and a lack of morallity or even the bleeding remnants of compassion that they really do need to be neutralized for the benefit of humankind. But in the temptation of relegate people too quickly to this category, we miss the kind in humankind.

I've talked about bonies in other forums. I get the concept from Warm Bodies, which, if you haven't seen, I recommend. My oldest daughter says the intro has too much "cheese" and as far as genre, it's really a love story. Without giving too much away, there are two kinds of zombies: corposes and bonies. And corpses can be healed and "exhumed" into heart-beating, brilliant aliveness through the power of witnessing connection.

Later, Narinda found me again. And she sat down next to me on that brown leather couch and told me how she loves to cook for people...how can make the food really good, and how she sometimes brings it to the people at her son's workplace because it makes them happy and they really like it. She told me about a little girl who used to come to her apartment long ago when she first moved to the states in 1998, and how that child used to stay with her whenever the mother was working late or away one trips, and how the little girl loved her food and called her "mom." And she told me that if I lived closer she would cook for me.

I had this best friend in junior high. Mary. She was a sweet, gentle soul who loved nature, animals, laughing and dreaming of world travel. She hit puberty slightly before me and was invited to join a group of kids who listened to their music in the smoking room of our alternative school and tended to garner their identity from being edgy and cynical and unkind to kids who didn't fit with them. Kids like me. Mary, being as soft and innocent as she was, easily was swept up in the tide of their invitation to belong, and the temptation of that rush of power that comes from meanness. Mary never bullied - she just snubbed me utterly. The other kids made fun of me and tried to set me up for mean pranks, which I didn't fall for. I tried to sell chocolates to make friends and one person bought them. I left the school before the year was out. I didn't know at the time that the kids then turned on Mary, did the same thing to her, she left too! Mary found me years later, via another blog I wrote a decade ago. She apologized, shared her story and we became connected beautifully again. She's met my kids and my husband. I've met her husband and hope to meet her kids someday soon. We are going to be putting together a video about our friendship and how it survived the bullies. Today I got a note from Mary. She says, "You have a lot of wisdom to share and I'm glad you have a venue to do it on your own terms! I love your positive messages that you share. I always look for your posts. I appreciate your truths and thought I should tell you." Look for our video soon! Mary is very busy with her babies but hopes to carve out time before too long!