Taking Risks

photo: Ibrahim Lujaz

"Security is mostly a superstition.  It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it.  Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."  
--Helen Keller

Go out on a limb....take a chance.....do some thing every day that scares you... These are sayings/invitations we've heard through our lifetimes no doubt, that perhaps piqued something in us but more often than not was dismissed. Why?

Is our illusion around safety and security so embedded, the human propensity to stick to a plan and not "rock the boat" so ingrained, that even the merest scary idea of acting outside my sensible norm becomes intimidating? Are we so wedded to our creature comforts, our (indoctrinated) sensibilities, ideas of a good life threatened by being something else not characterized by the usual?

I recently made a bunch of pacts with myself to do a series of things I haven't done since childhood.  Like dive head-first into water from an elevation or subject myself to a terrifying, stomach-turning roller coaster ride, skinny dip in broad daylight, walk in a downpour gladly, without being hunched and cowered, allowing my (adult) shoes to become saturated and squishy. I longed to grapple with a small something that secretly threatened aspects of myself, things I was sure I could not do, was afraid to fail at:  knit a pair of socks, terrifying for even an experienced knitter with all those yarn overs, dropped stitches and intimidating rounded heels, make a Baked Alaska (solid ice cream in a hot pastry? how is this possible?), eat okra with an open palate (there must be something else to it besides sliminess).  Why do even these small things imprison me in a type of fear and/or abhorrence for decades? What is so bad about being in a transitory state of discomfort?


My practically crystallized ideas of myself are challenged: I'm not as good a knitter as I like to believe.  I'm not that talented at baking.  I am uncomfortable being out of control, not "knowing".  What if someone sees me naked... what if I get arrested (!) I sometimes misunderstand directions given, therefore I must be stupid.  My life is channeled by my innumerous likes and dislikes and my sense of comfort/discomfort to avoid these challenges.  Something hangs onto these negative childish impressions and messages; my secret and not-so-secret sense of identity depends upon them.

"Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries."  Theodore Roethke

Photo: Xose Castro Roig

Something happens when I take something dreaded on willingly, with a glad (if not intrepid) heart.  The torture of the experience is still guaranteed (the ego after all, is my constant companion).  But the liberation which transpires each step of each agonizing step in the process of the dastardly event is also guaranteed.  The unabated interior railing that goes on in the process is astounding and somehow hilarious. One sees the humor in the folly of the long held belief being broken.  One experiences one's ridiculousness, awkwardness and revels (perhaps after crying a bit) in that.  Or one relives the old wound of self-disappointment but from a more mature perspective; a point of view that can rally, try it again but this time without self-recrimination, this time with more patience and compassion.  This is gold in one's pocket. This is a bit of a triumph; maybe bigger than a bit.  This is a life stepping up to a challenge, a life being lived,  a control freak being denied, a big spirit showing itself. 

"Knowledge implies ignorance of what lies beyond what is known.  Knowledge is always limited."
--Sri Ramana Maharshi

The human condition for all of us on some level, is reaching middle or old age and finding ourselves nailed to an unexpected misery, fear of the future, deep discontent despite being surrounded by all the imaginable comforts the world could possibly provide.  It in some part is related to not having evolved a deeper trust in the experience of living a life.  Material wealth has meticulously been accrued by being well practiced at putting our noses to the grindstone (no small feat, but often not life-giving).  Somehow, facing our rigid attitudes and the armor of our likes and dislikes, doesn't merit an exploration of further examination.  This would involve taking small risks; risks like being physically or emotionally uncomfortable, especially when it is not ostensibly necessary to do so.  The human fear of the unknown and especially sensory dislikes stop us dead in our tracks.  Why?  Why are we afraid of life?  This unwillingness to suffer (even temporarily) binds us up.  It without a doubt, halts knowing who we are and probably what we might be here for.  Whether it be clearing the throat chakra so we can speak our truth to ourselves or to others or subjecting oneself to serving in a soup kitchen because one has been unnerved by the indigent or the mentally ill in the past.  There is exploring to do.  Take a risk.

Healing Practice: the Slippery Slope (Part II)

"Thought", Rodin
Rodin Museum, Philadelphia

In Healing Practice: the Slippery Slope (Part I), I talked about what healing practice is and some of the inherent challenges.  In Stress, Self-Responsibility and Health the idea of self care for those who are caretakers (healers) was addressed and the subtle aspects of what it means to take responsibility for one's own well being and health.  Lee van Laer's essay,  My father's shoes is an interesting take on putting others before ourselves.  He indicates the subtle motivations one participates in when deciding on taking a caretaking attitude and the self-accountability that transpires, often unwittingly.

This post hopes to expand upon the challenges we face as healers, be it the self care/responsibility piece or actual practice of bringing awareness, sharing energy and the ever present issue of transference.

an external relief, Chartres Cathedral

In a very basic and true way, all and everything is about our depth of awareness and attention in a moment and the relationship we make then. Practicing healing work is that synchronistic work along with stripping and paring ourselves down to our essential selves so that we don't bring to the work that which doesn't belong there.  Having said that, our essential selves alone are not equipped to handle whatever is the task in front of us.  Our essential selves sets the right tone of honesty and authenticity and is often cued into the creative and our intuition.  This is a valuable resource we want in play as we evolve the healing relationship.  However alone, it is not grounded; grounded in thought, skill, discretion or purpose.  These are the qualities that are most available and familiar to us.  These are often the elements we (and our identities and egos) are fully invested in, brought forth with pride, confidence and knowledge.  These are aspects a third part of us (he who is attending) needs to watch carefully and monitor, because otherwise that executive part will portend to be our whole, and pretend to be the only thing that matters.  When our ego-authority takes precedence, often our self responsibility is lost and a healing becomes marginal.  In that moment, either we falsely become the big kahuna or we become transferred upon. The slippery slope of navigating the complex relationship of a healing, involving myself (and my energies), other (and their energies), our mutually conjoined energies and the great Unknown, teeters.

Rodin

This "depth of awareness and attention in a moment", is just that.  It is fleeting. It is required to be renewed over and over again.  When we get a taste of it, even in a protracted series of moments, it is possible to become trapped in the illusion of its permanence.  It is not permanent at all and it isn't meant to be.  The permanence I seek is the effort of renewing.  This is what I work for, this is what I try to move towards.  Renewing keeps me honest and keeps me present (to mild shifts in energy, to transference).  Renewing prevents the work from becoming static, keeps me curious and intrigued with what is, not what I hope for or expect.  Renewing my effort revitalizes my awareness, attention, sense of openness.  That practice helps me to stay grounded in the relationship at hand and with myself.  It keeps me "clean" and the work genuine. It helps the essential self to combine, overlap and work with my skills, my creativity. It helps me create a healthy separation in the duality I've entered when in the healing relationship.  It keeps me real. 

Building attention and an awareness is like exercising a muscle.  With repeated efforts it grows stronger and has more endurance.  It is an experience of a sublime movement of Qi or Prana which subtly courses through my organism, building a circulation.  Both this movement and effort can be likened to experiences of meditation.  Effort isn't like the effort we make in ordinary life. I am not Trying.  I am not gearing up available forces to Do.  Effort is an awareness and subsequent engagement of more of me; the parts of myself that are usually least accessible.  Its quality is quiet. Receptive. Not strained. It is what it means to be in a more total relationship with myself.

"Two Hands",  Rodin
Rodin Museum, Philadelphia

Because of this, every healing is a self-healing.  We are meeting ourselves as much as we are matching another.  Because of the effort of attention and awareness I am more One.  I am related to myself more fully, the person before me, all and everything.  I am able to be a semblance of the rock or tree John Blofeld (see below) speaks of becoming.  The change (or healing) I am open to becomes possible because of this type of unification I experience in a moment.

This is an ideal; every healing experience is different than the one before depending on the awareness and attention present. The element of my humanness keeps it interesting (at least for God!).  My blind spots, frailties, inherent woundedness, lack of any type of perfection in a way is an integral part of the ideal.  When that humanness is seen, struggled with, included, acknowledged and accepted with compassion and love, it actually helps a session to "work". It manifests something deeply real (even if sometimes it is not "pretty").  My imperfect humanness and my willingness not to hide it but to be with it is often the very healing another is needing to witness.

Excerpt from Beyond The Gods, by John Blofeld

"When contemplating a little change, it is fitting first to observe what you wish to alter at different times of day throughout the four seasons of the year, lest by hasty action something precious be lost. Also you need to become a rock or tree yourself before you can judge how to make a change that will accord with its nature."

"Become a tree?" I asked.

"Do you find that astonishing? If you had much time, I would show you. You just sit before it in sunshine and in cloud, in rain or snow if necessary, and project your mind into it. Slowly you learn how to be at one with it, to sense its rhythm, to know how its branches would dispose themselves under just slightly altered circumstances. Only then can you make a change without doing violence to its treeness. All good gardeners get to know their plants as intimately as their own children; otherwise, how could they be good gardeners?"

Dalai Lama's hand, 1987
Herb Ritts

Stress, Self-Responsibility and Health

Caretaker/caregivers are usually an innate, dyed-in-the-wool breed.  They caretake in one way or another their entire lives.  Because they tend to be hyper-responsible to others, the phrase "take responsibility" sometimes has negative connotations for them (they think they're doing it ALL the time). So, sometimes the usual stress management precepts having to do with taking time for yourself, or taking care of yourself sends a shrill and automatic irritation through them.  Having to take responsibility for yet another person (albeit the most important one in their life--themselves) by being endlessly vigilant about diet, exercise, sleep makes them a bit crazy. They usually KNOW all that stuff, tell them something new. Or better yet (they secretly wish), take away the accumulated burden they bear.

When we wind up in a strung-out, desperate, severely stressed state due to having taken on too much on behalf of others it's often because we have avoided taking responsibility for our own deep needs and also the unwillingness to give up the seductive hero(ine) role.  The answer is not to take better care of yourself by getting more rest, more time away and more fun (although these all help, they usually are not possible when one is over one's head).  The answer is to STOP.

Stop having expectations of others and yourself (disappointment is guaranteed). Stop projecting your dis-ease on everyone and everything (it's unbecoming in an adult).  Stop trying to control the world (it usually doesn't comply anyway). Stop trying to be perfect (it's a no-win deal no matter which way you look at it). Stop indulging in the terror you are alone (you're not; that's probably a carry-over from childhood).  Buying into that you are alone in the circumstance isolates you, puts you squarely on the no-where-to-go pity pot and prevents you from receiving what is available.  Stop ruminating, constantly thinking and strategizing; let it go. Stop this compounded, vicious cycle making it possible to finally get off that misery merry-go-round. This is a lot to give up, and not in most caretaker's comfort zone.

Most of us become caregivers because the approval rating is so high (disappointment factor low). It's a reliable "feel good" fix. And we get kudos a lot easier taking care of others than taking care of ourselves. 90% of the population is not up for an intensive care taking of others (all those body fluids! yuck).  We've decided (way back when probably) to be "special" and become one of the 10%.  Those deep needs mentioned before are masked by our constant doing (showing off that spectacular energy resource we have been generously blessed with).  We don't stop. Even when we stop doing, or are layed low, we don't stop.  The inner machinations continue, often dreaming up yet other ambitious projects to undertake (usually involving "helping"). It is common to dismiss or minimize others attempts to assist.  Our non-stop doing pushes people away, leaves no room to accept and acknowledge others, exaggerates our capacity and other's lack of capacity.  Enough is never enough.  We have to stop.

Stopping means just that. It means taking a lot of deep cleansing breaths and readjusting our life's approach. Stopping is to mourn the sorrow of the chronic pain you are in and your abject neglect of yourself, your well being and feeling the poverty of that.  Stopping is to excruciatingly admit one's sense of being less worthy than almost anyone or anything else.  And also admitting the untruth of that sense and that only you are responsible for that feeling.  The deep dark hole we feel cannot be filled up by others.

This is the daily, hidden stress in our lives. The caretaking of others.is absolutely difficult and can be supremely stressful.  But it is not the reason we are being brought to our knees. The constant turning away from who I am (or have become), the organism's distress at not being listened to, ignored and unrecognized (by myself, not others).  The daily forsaking in tiny little ways over and over compounded with reinforced certainty the buried deep secret that my worth is based on what I do, and usually what I do for others. These are lies that we (in most of ourselves) complicitly reinforce. And we suffer this. Somehow, one is not of value or worthy of just being.  And that is the stress that is a killer, not the taking care of others.


When we begin to start to listen, pay attention to the small voice(s) inside, to unplug from our internal manual over-drive circuit, we start to be less angry and overwhelmed. We start to begin to naturally do what all those previously irritating stress management precepts have layed out so succinctly. Previous emotional addictions (the mother of most other addictions) begin to fall away. Gratitude becomes a normal daily occurrence. Joy becomes familiar.  A deeper, grounded sense of self responsibility becomes the norm and is effortless. And surprisingly, external circumstances probably haven't changed, one is still the caretaker extraordinaire most likely. One still has that supreme knack for compassion and deep empathy. Only now, one is aligned from within. One has practiced those possessed gifts and healing talents of kindness and mercy on oneself.

Water: the Elixir of Life

If bread is the food of life, then water must be the elixir.  Water has a tremendous balancing and healing capacity, whether you are drinking, bathing, swimming in it, or merely looking at it. Is this because water is a terrific electric conductor and our dynamic electric selves responds naturally to it, is recharged on re-entry?  Or our 85% fluid selves matches and synchronizes with the substance?  We come home in a way, being in water.

Water is the most abundant resource on the planet, inside of our bodies and on the earth’s surface.  In and with water, one becomes in flow again.  Experiencing our fluidity is possible even if as land creatures we are rather dense, haltingly static. In water, we are reanimated. Water buoys the body, allows it to float. We re-become the sea creature we must of hearkened from long ago. Ankles, feet, wrists and hands become flippers again, the rib's moving respiration attempts to re-find our lost gills. Our mammal spine undulates and rediscovers the prana, the qi natural to it in an unencumbered environment. We are a-swim in our long ago ancestor gene pool.  A distant memory of what was then possible is awakened?

And so a similar internal experience occurs when we imbibe the substance.  A washing, cleansing occurrence puts the organism in flow once again.  We perspire constantly even in the mildest circumstance; a replenishment, a reinvigorating the cycle is required, a call to hydrate. Adequate hydration makes headaches disappear, renews our energy, decreases appetite, curbs cravings.  Our urine, usually a definitive color, pales and becomes neutral in tone (as it should be).  Our organs operate optimally; the liver's filter function aided by the wash of water flowing through, our kidneys grateful for the influx of like, a resonance of its life force.  Our very blood and lymph, its function so necessary to be in flow, is supported by the visit.

In Chinese Taoist thought, water is representative of intelligence and wisdom, flexibility, softness and pliancy.  It is considered the perfect yin substance, accommodating to every vessel it enters.  It’s internal and external constancy makes it both powerful and wise.  With this influence ever present inside and outside ourselves nature has given us yet another support to make us whole.

Building the Heart of Your Fire

There are four components necessary to start a fire:  a fast, short lived resource which ignites quickly (ie: paper), a fairly fast longer living element (ie kindling), a long lasting burning source (wood logs) and finally oxygen.  Master fire starters tell me a fifth element is key:  a Heart.  A heart in a fire is the successful combination of the first four elements, the thing that keeps the fire burning, the center of a good blaze.  When you lose it, you lose the fire.

And so it is with us.

Our bodies require different sources to create fire (energy) and this is multi-layered and complex.  We need clean, nutritious food, water and whole (as opposed to partial) impressions to keep our organism balanced.  We require different forms of protein, carbohydrates, amino acids and minerals.  Some of those components are “quick igniters” (carbs), others are slow forms of energy (proteins).  Again, the “heart” of the daily fires we build is the sublime combination of these foods, the movement of our body, the quality of the breathing we do.  When we lose the heart or balance in our daily life, stress and toxicity move in, we lose the fire.

And so it also is with our “spirit” life.

As in all things, our spirit life needs tending much like the daily blaze we attempt to build in this complex organism.  It actually is not separate, but very much linked to the food of impressions, something easily dismissed as extraneous as we are bombarded by them from the minute we wake up until we go to sleep.  But for impressions to be nourishing they have to be whole; that is more of myself engaged in the receiving of them.

The “quick igniters”, the paper of impressions are ever present.  We usually try to live off of them, but they are fleeting and insubstantial, have a chaotic sense about them.  They are the impressions of the executive self.  The momentary impression of a mug in a drainboard that needs to be put away, the feel of the dirt on a floor and the idea it needs to be swept up; the “busy” components that fill me from dawn to dark.  The kindling, slightly more substantial impressions are ones I engage with for a longer period of time: a telephone conversation, the hanging of laundry, a purposeful trip down a supermarket aisle.  And the “logs”, slower burning impressions are the detailed “projects” we engage in for lengthy periods of time.  The painting of a room, the article researched and written, the group of patients I take care of on a given day. They are layered and dimensional impressions and engage the organism over a block of time .

What could be an interesting notion is that any of these elements, the quick igniters, kindling or logs in my daily life are vital and necessary aspects to the Heart of my daily fire.  The Heart finds it’s rhythm, by slowing down and opening up, including all my resources.  I become aware of the attraction in my chest to the pattern and color of the mug in the drainboard.  The shape is squarely in the palm of my hand while my feet do their turn to place it with a modicum of awareness where it belongs on the shelf.  All of a sudden the cursory glance and impression are filled out, become more whole.  I’ve made relationship with the object.  More of me is involved, not just my executive decision maker.  Painting a room may involve many long pauses of consideration.  A slowness in my internal mechanism transpires, not necessarily in my external.  My interior becomes more spacious by including the light from the window.  It occurs to me to take better care, more thought in the laying of drop cloths, placement of ladders and paint trays.  They no longer are annoyingly incidental, but part of the process. My usually rushed end-product self relaxes into the fire being created, the impressions expanding (the Heart) in the process.

The thing about building a fire, is that you can watch a master do it, but you really don’t know how until you’ve tried and failed (repeatedly) in your own way yourself.  Tips are accepted, but it is taking responsibility for the event, the watching and waiting and inclinations one feels while the fire attempts to take off.  The subtle awareness one has in oneself, the seeing what it needs, the surprise, the doubt, disappointment and willingness to give it another go when it sputters out. Where is it waning? What does it need?  Where is the Heart?

And so it is with us.

Healing Practice: the Slippery Slope (Part I)

This is a two part essay on aspects of healing practice.

Every person born (I would include at least some animals as well) has healer capacity. This is so because we are dynamic, multi-layered, energetic beings who are designed to self-heal.  This self healing variable gives us the potential to help others heal.  Our humanness resonates, vibrates with all energetic beings. Providing healing energy to oneself or to others requires a layered sense and an understanding of energy (how it moves and behaves) through experience. This requires an adept use of all the senses including our sixth sense of proprioception, intuition.

Most healers are trained and skilled in one modality or other (if not many).  This is a platform from which a healing most often begins. One learns a structure and a set of skills from which to begin and carry out energy shifting.  These can include a deep knowledge of the body's anatomy and physiology as well as the more ephemeral knowing of how energy moves or doesn't move (recognizing when energy gets blocked or static). Healing work can be very simple or very complex. Good healing work is never static or perfunctory (using only learned skill sets), but includes a relatedness to self which is simultaneous to other.  This relatedness, and being in relationship is an experience of creativity.

To be in a right healing relationship is to be Met; to be matched. It could be said it mirrors the ideal of the original relationship of the wise, benevolent, unconditional parent (God(dess)?) to child;  One is Seen, accepted, respected and encouraged to Be what one is in a moment. When one's organism and person is approached in this way, trust becomes an operating factor, allowing the energies to naturally balance and align.  Nothing is automatic, everything is related from and to.  This balancing and alignment of the energies is almost always different with every person and in every session.  Hence, preconceived notions or ideas as to how a session should go aren't relevant.

This is an ideal. The fact is all healers are wounded in their own way.  All people/healers have not had a complete, wise, benevolent, unconditional parent as a model, but fragmentations of same in some degree and their own partial humanity from which they act. So, we all are imperfect, partial healers for the most part.  It sometimes happens, use of intuition is sometimes skewed.  People in a healer capacity sometimes have their own agenda, act from their own self need (usually unconsciously), can't help but transfer their own "stuff", are creative for their own sake not for the sake of the relationship at hand. Others rigidly adhere to a modality's form without consideration that something else is called for or do not trust themselves outside of the structure of the form.  The human propensity to deny an inclination of what Is is pretty much ever present.  A healing is a slippery slope.

For a healer, allowing oneself to be in an open inquiry, free of expectations and ego-authority seems the safest approach (easier said than done!). Where does the impulse to put my hands on or say what I say in a moment come from?  If I am in question, can I resist the impulse to act, allow a pause for a possible confirmation of an action?  Is the action I make out of respect for the moment or some part of me that wants to "fix"?  How much of me wants to change what is, rather than Be with it? How much of my action is from my knowledge base, the place in oneself that has spent considerable time (and money no doubt) accruing "expertise"? Do I trust the other will find their way (in their own good time), or do I feel responsible to get them there myself?  How do I verify my authenticity in a moment? How do I know that I'm on the right track?

Lucky for the healing moment, it rarely happens in a vacuum.  There are lots of ways to know that what is transpiring is right. We are working with (not "on") a healing partner, with another.  We can ask if it feels right to them (it's always a good idea to be "checking in" periodically, with oneself and other, in a session anyway). The flow of energy and one's attention will often clarify if the direction is on course. With experience, we begin to sense when we are in and out of a more sensitized zone. Being in this "zone", the harmonizing of the joint energies is very apparent.  Out of this zone, doubt is much more prevalent and the joint connection more tenuous.

Many animals have healer talents.  These animals are benevolent and unconditional by nature.  Their healing skills are purely intuitive, less layered and less complex than their human counterparts, but nonetheless effective, if not simple. Healer qualities are not so much a part of them, as seemingly their purpose.

"Squirrel"  the wounded healer cat

 Acknowledgements:  I'd like to thank both Aileen Crow (New City, NY and NYC) and Mie Sato (Larchmont, NY), both respectively stellar healers, for permission to post their images (above) taken while working on a healing.  Aileen's art and writing on healing work can be found on:  AuthenticMovementCommunity blog and in the Journal of Authentic Movement and Somatic Inquiry (JAMSI),  authenticmovementjournal.com, as well as in the late A Moving Journal magazine.  Mie's remarkably intuitive hands, gorgeous artistic sensibilities and considerable presence can be found planted firmly in Larchmont, NY.

Place Travel: Experiencing Culture

The experience of being in another culture foreign from the one you usually find yourself is valuable on many levels.  It forces us to alter our habits and witness the values of others, as surreal as it may sometimes be. There is an internal tugging that goes on frequently, when differences are before you.  "I don't like this.... I don't like that" are frequently felt.  It is liberating to have the experience of necessarily detaching from these likes and dislikes in order to get through the day.  It opens our internal doors and windows and allows another breeze to blow through.

One doesn’t have to go far to “travel” to other cultures.  The Mall and Walmart are foreign cultures to many:  Chinatown-USA, a boyscout camp, an outdoor fish market, a truck stop.  Cultural dynamics are everywhere; family of origin, college campus’, places of worship.  All geographical areas have their unique and peculiar culture (shore communities, wooded rural places, mountain, metropolis’, poor, working-class, affluent).  Fast food restaurants, Whole Foods, Starbucks, food co-ops, hospitals all work hard at evolving a human business culture.  The lighting, the layout of space, operation procedures are all ways they intentionally attract customers.

  C

Our bodies, minds and spirits are challenged on an ongoing basis when on foreign soil. Experiencing differences is the norm. Differences of energy, foods, people/personalities, sounds of places,-- ordinary sounds like languages and indigenous insects/animals wake up intimate parts of myself.  I begin to open, have an internal expansion, not only to the outside, but to the inside.  I sometimes experience a closing, when judgments or criticisms are ever present in small gnat-y ways and in larger reactions. I travel with these openings/closings as I traverse these various terrains.  I’m “shook” up by the cultural details and impressions.

Most of us continually make choices to travel or not, to subject ourselves to other cultures. We often choose to not enter cultures that challenge our own well established internal ones.  Probably the most rich aspect of “space travel” is a recognition of my own internal culture.  I begin to notice the flexible and inflexible parts of myself willing and unwilling to shift to accommodate the differences. My energy changes depending on an internal defense to the outside or conversely, a welcoming that is available to the foreign.  The more I am aware of this internal culture, the better prepared I am going to these other places.  

I know there could be tension visiting my friend because he doesn’t care about what he eats, but I care about what I eat.  I want to allow him to have his food culture, while still respecting mine.  Ahead of time I decide to not talk about food or nutrition unless he asks me with genuine interest, to suspend the likely judgment I will have surrounded by his white bread and make sure I obtain good, whole grain bread for myself for breakfasts.  Low and behold, our affection and care for each other is able to survive our differences.  And we both eat what we want with only a few shared loving wise cracks in between.

What resources of our own personal internal culture are available to us, that we draw upon whether it be on a hot crowded train, standing-room-only traversing India’s countryside or sharing a semi-private hospital room with a non-stop TV watcher-roomate? The answer can never be, not to travel.  Traveling is inevitable.  Cultures collide, they are around every corner. Perhaps, Know thyself.  Accept what is.  Enjoy life.