There is something so tender about this to me, about being willing to have your makeup wash off, your eyes tear up, your nose start to run. Its tender partly because it harkens back to infancy, to your mother washing your face with love and lots or water, tending to you, making you clean all over again.

Pay attention to the beauty surrounding you.

When we agree to being part of something bigger than our own wired, fixated minds, we are saved.

It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what's keeping things running right. We're bugs struggling in the river, brightly visible to the trout below. With that fact in mind, people like me make up all these rules to give us the illusion that we are in charge. I need to say to myself, they're not needed, hon. Just take in the buggy pleasures. Be kind to the others, grab the fleck of riverweed, notice how beautifully your bug legs scull.

Living on Earth has always been a dangerous way to spend your time.

These days cry out, as never before, for us to pay attention, so we can move through them and get our joy and pride back.

The whistle is always waiting to be blown, and in some ways, it gets me to do better work.