Underneath the Hood of Race Relations
[T]he complexity of who we are actually includes multichromatic lineages: both dominant and marginalized cultures from all over the world, as well as ancestors who have probably been both oppressor and the oppressed.
Reflections from a Death Row Monk
The more I learn to trust my inner senses, the more I see they are way more intelligent than my thoughts ever were. So it’s my horse who teaches my rider how to stay connected…
More than a Guard
We offer not only the tools to officers for the improvement of their mental health, but also help clear the stigma of the guard to the nobler role this profession plays as the guardian.
Ghee
Ghee is a little hard to make unless you see someone do it. This photo essay lets you make your own ghee without someone there to help you.
Getting Clear about Fear
We may not be able to shield ourselves or our children from every harm, but we do have the power to change our careless words into caring ones, to transform our fear into fierce love, and trade our worry for wisdom.
Free Food Tijuana: The Draw of Silent Love
I hadn’t noticed how many people without homes were painted across the whole city, that once you open your eyes to the silent realm, you can see so much more.
Seeing Through the Big Door
The garden was now located somewhere inside. A door had opened to something unexpected. Poems can seem like doors, at once both obscuring and revealing, assuring and confounding.
From the Ashes Rises the Phoenix
When I feel such sadness as I did that day, I’ll start playing the flute in my heart and let the sadness be the melody. What comes out is always so beautiful.
Love Languages
The first time I talked to Egypt she was walking in the door to the church. “Welcome,” I said, smiling at her. “I’ll punch you in the face,” she said with a determined look. Those aren’t words I’m used to hearing coming from anyone, much less a woman about twice my size. The intensity of […]
No Separation
My relationship with homeless people is changing. I grew up in Berkeley where it was common to see people living on the street year round. I would pass the same familiar faces selling “Street Sprit” newspaper by my favorite bakery, and wonder what it felt like to have that life. My family never gave money […]
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