On my run this morning, there was Linda coming up the hill with walking sticks.

Me: “I haven’t seen you for a long time! It’s great to see you!”

Linda: “Five months. It’s been five months. Richard got me walking again. He convinced me I could do the hills.”

Richard is a neighbor who always brings the true meaning of life to the surface of my awareness. Turns out he does it for everyone.

Linda told me about her bad fall five months ago. She broke her shoulder and her leg in four places. Her absence for a couple of months inspired Richard to go over to her place where he found her sitting in the same chair day after day.

Linda lives alone and was avoiding going to doctors because an ambulance costs her $250 each way. Richard took her to her doctor visits. And gradually convinced her to step outside. He brought her back to life. And now she was taking the hills. Rather energetically. And smiling.

Linda is older. Richard is in his mid-80’s and even older. He kayaks five days a week with his daughter and is strong as a bull. Filled with life force.

Richard’s colorful garden makes us all happy, flowers changing with the seasons. He shares his tree’s mouthwatering plums with all of us.

Richard grew up in the Bay Area and told me stories about how he and his brother would take their boat and go out fishing in the San Francisco Bay when he was young. Sometimes they would catch a large shark, and the shark would take off with their little boat racing across the bay at great speeds. Richard said it was one of the best joyrides of his life and it happened often.

Richard always has stories. And his stories always remind me of the true meaning of life.

One neighbor like this brings the whole neighborhood together.

Richard lives about a mile from my house. But it seems that everyone on the route knows Richard and has a Richard story.

Richard in his 80’s has more energy than most 20-year-olds. And more wisdom than most philosophers.

It’s a joy to see Linda again. She looks radiant. She said to me, “Thanks to Richard, I am reverse-aging. All this stuff about growing old, it all comes down to what you believe. And Richard made me believe again.”

Just hearing the story made me believe again too.

May you have a Richard in your life. Or possibly you are one. Thank you.

Love,

Ingrid

I sat down next to him.  Rittenhouse Square, lovely little city park in the middle of Philadelphia.

Cold December day. A break from all the doing. Needed a park bench to just sit and be.

Old man, nicely dressed.  A peaceful sadness about him, looked like he’d been sitting there for a while and had no plans to get up, lots of space on the bench next to him.

I sat down.

We both sat and looked out, watched people waiting for their friends, meeting each other by the fountain in the center of the square, warmly greeting, laughing, walking away together.

Robust, constantly moving stream of purposeful-looking people walking by, on their way to a busy somewhere.

I relaxed and sat, just watching, enjoying all the people around me. So nice to feel like I didn’t have to do anything, could just sit and look out.

I was also enjoying the company of the man next to me, feeling his presence and enjoying the humanity it made me feel. I could feel him looking out and watching too.

Without turning his head, he spoke. “Why does everyone walk so fast?”

I gave it some thought, and simply said, “Good question.”

That satisfied him, and he nodded.

Companionable silence.

Then he: “What is on their phones that they keep looking at them?”

I wondered if he owned a cell phone.  I watched everyone in the Square for a moment. Everyone who was standing and waiting for someone was checking their phone. Even the people walking by were often checking their phones.  

I thought about it, and told him, “Another good question.”

Head nod, satisfied.

After a little peaceful silence, he quietly said, “They don’t look up anymore. They don’t look at faces. They’re not seeing any of the decorations.”

I turned my head to look at his face. I said, “Too true.” He turned his head to look at me and smiled. I smiled too.

We went back to watching people. Somehow connected.

I don’t know what made me ask, I somehow knew it was. “Is Rittenhouse Square a special place for you?”

He, a little laugh, a big sigh, said, “Very special.”

Long silence. Then, “My wife and I took walks around the Square every day. But we didn’t march like these people. We strolled. We talked. We looked at everything. We enjoyed seeing it all. especially this time of year.”

I was very touched. “That sounds very special. Married a long time?”

“53 years.”

Me: “That’s a lot of strolls.”

Smile from him, “Yes, a lot of strolls.” Silence as he pondered. Quietly, but with tremendous feeling, “A lot of strolls.”

I didn’t ask, I knew she was gone, I didn’t want to open up a wound.

Peaceful silence.

He said, “I miss her every day.”

I thought about his strolling with a woman he loved every day for 53 years and bit my lip to keep from crying. Didn’t help.

I waited until it subsided and simply offered, “I can understand. I can imagine you had a beautiful marriage.”

He smiled, “We got along. I was a really lucky guy. She was something else. Everyone wanted to marry her. No idea why she chose me but I always felt like luckiest guy in the world. We never argued. Three kids. Good kids. Now I have grandkids. I love them all.”

Tears coming one after the other down my face, no tissue to wipe them, I used my sleeve.

“Thank you for telling me, that’s beautiful.”

He smiled.

We sat peacefully, looking out.

The smile stayed on his face.

He turned to me, like an old friend who doesn’t want to go, he said almost reluctantly, “They’re waiting for me, I need to go. Will you be back?”

“I’m only here for the holidays, but while I’m here, I come back a lot. Maybe I’ll see you.”

“I would like that.” Smile. “You remind me of her. She cried really easy too.”

That set me to blubbering all over again.

He smiled. “Next time we can stroll around the park.”

“I would like that.”

He sat and looked out a little longer until I stopped crying. Somehow this little conversation had brightened him up. He didn’t seem so sad.

And as I stopped crying, I was filled with the happiness of knowing a man who loved to stroll every day with his wife, and could do it again, and again, and again, for 53 years. I couldn’t help it, I started smiling.

He saw that, stood up and smiling too looked into my eyes, his were old, kind eyes. I was filled with an inner peace, and I could see he was also.

He said, “It was nice talking to you.”

“It was nice talking to you too.”

“See you.”

“See you.”

I get home. I’m asked, “How was your walk?”

“It was really good. It was more like a stroll.”

“That’s nice. Where did you go?”

“Rittenhouse Square.”

“I love that place.”

“Come with me tomorrow.”

“I would love to. And there’s a nice place right on the Square where we can have tea. Great place to watch people, and everyone is dressed up this time of year.”

“Perfect. There’s a really nice old man who might be there also. I think you’ll really like him. He came to the Square every day with his wife, they strolled around the square every day, for 53 years.”

“She’s gone?”

“She’s gone.”

“I think I’ve seen them. They were always dressed up really nice. And she always took his arm. They were always talking to each other. They look like they really cared about each other a lot. … So sorry she’s gone.”

“Yeah, me too. But he has wonderful children and grandchildren that make him happy.”

“That’s always a blessing. Well, let’s go tomorrow. I hope he’s there. He sounds nice.”

“Perfect. Me too.”

Love,

Ingrid

Sometimes humanity is lucky enough to have a single individual who is able to break through all the preconceived notions of despair, hopelessness, and impossibility that overwhelm the rest of the world. They release in humanity the most beautiful of forces, the force of love and harmony.

At that moment we see with great clarity what being human really means.

At that moment, we find what we are seeking, what seemed impossible the moment before.

We reach that distant shore that we as humanity long for.

This is such a story.

I would like to show you an exhilarating mass performance of the song “One Day,” sung in English, Arabic and Hebrew.

The person who made it happen is reggae singer Matthew Paul Miller.

In 2018 he issued an invitation for people to come together and learn the song “One Day” with him in less than an hour. 3,000 people showed up, none of whom had ever met before. They had no reason to come together other than one man’s invitation to do so.

Not only did they all learn the song, they also learned to sing and harmonize the song in three different languages.

Here is the video of 3,000 Muslims and Jews singing together in English, Arabic and Hebrew.

That is all well and good, you might say.  But you may also think that only a silly optimist would believe that song could be a way to accomplish peace, to release a people from hatred and violence, that song is woefully insufficient as a force against evil.  I understand that.

But there are 3 countries that have another perspective and I heard all about it from my parents growing up.  They came from Lithuania (across the sea from Sweden), one of 3 Baltic countries that was suffering deeply from Soviet occupation and suppression for much of my parents’ lives.

The other 2 countries are Latvia and Estonia.  All 3 countries had military forces that were weak.  All 3 countries had been completely overpowered by the Soviet might and merciless inhumanity. 

300,000 Lithuanians were deported to the depths of frozen Siberia where most of them died.  80,000 were executed and buried in mass graves.  190,000 were thrown into brutal jails.  This is devastating to a country that has a population of only 3 million.

The same was happening in Latvia and Estonia.  They had nothing to fight back with.  Nothing.

Except song.

The little-known story is beautifully told in a film called The Singing Revolution.  The film was made about Estonia, but very similar was happening in all 3 countries. 

The Soviet empire was powerless against song.  In the battle of song vs bullets and tanks, song was victorious.

The film is broadly available if you like gripping true stories about human beings who make the impossible happen. https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0954008/?ref_=ttpl_ov

What does it take to create harmony?

It always starts with the individual.  Individuals are the ones who ultimately transform groups, countries, and even empires.

Harmony, love and beauty have a power and a force all their own.

They are powerfully present as potential to be released in every one of us, every minute of every day. They have no borders. They have no limits.

I believe in the infinite potential of humanity. I believe in the infinite potential of you.

Sending you my warmest wishes for a joyous and love-filled, Thanksgiving celebration, not just to my American friends but to all around the world.

I am thankful for all of you who are reading this.

Much love,
Ingrid

Today’s story is from long ago, 1682 as a matter of fact. Much has been written about the first Thanksgiving and the debt and gratitude owed to the Native Americans who helped the struggling European settlers who were new to this land.

A little known story is of the Quaker William Penn who came from England in the 1600’s to escape severe religious persecution (he’d been thrown in prison twice already for his beliefs).  His dream was to form a unique community of religious tolerance and inclusion in the new world, the first of its kind in the history of humankind. 

The Lenape Native American tribe was already living on the land where Penn wanted to settle.

Before starting out on his journey across the sea, Penn wrote eloquently and respectfully to the Lenape, insisting that his words be meticulously translated into their language:

“I am very sensible of the unkindness and injustice that hath been too much exercised toward you by the people of these parts of the world, which I hear hath been a matter of trouble to you and caused great grudgings and animosities, sometimes to the shedding of blood … But I am not such a man …”

In his letter, Penn went further, and surprised the Lenape with words utterly unexpected: 

Instead of simply announcing his upcoming arrival, Penn respectfully requested the Lenape’s consent. He asked if they would consent for him come, to put down new roots and to bring others who would also make a new home in this land, to create a new city, Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love (Greek:  Phileo – “love” and Adelphos – “brotherly”):

“I desire to enjoy it with your love and consent, that we may always live together as neighbors and friends.”

As a result of his beautiful expression of purpose for unity, the Lenape welcomed Penn when he arrived. 

Penn attended their Councils, studied and learned their Lenape language in less than a year so he could communicate with them directly, without the cumbersome intervention of a translator.  He won their trust.  Penn paid the Lenape for their land and only took land that was agreeably paid for. 

Inspired by Penn, Tamanend, the Chief of the Lenape, studied and learned English and refused to participate in any campaign waged by the Iroquois to drive out the Europeans. 

It turns out the Quakers and the Lenape had much in common.  Just as the Lenape believed they had a kinship with all things, Quakers believed in universal brotherhood derived through the spark of the divine, or Inner Light, within all people.

As a sign of their mutual trust, Penn and Tamanend together signed a beautiful peace treaty in a remarkable ceremony by the banks of the Delaware River.  There, in the Lenape language, Penn said:

“We meet on the broad pathway of good faith and good will; no advantage shall be taken on either side, but all shall be openness and love … We are the same as if one man’s body was to be divided into two parts; we are all one flesh and blood.”

Tamanend, the Chief of the Lenape replied:

“We and Christians of this river have always had a free roadway to one another. Though sometimes a tree has fallen across the road, yet we have still removed it again and kept the path clean and we design to continue the old friendship that has been between us.

“We will live in love with Onas (Penn’s Indian name) and his children as long as the creeks and rivers run and while the sun, moon, and stars endure.”

As a result, the Native Americans and the European settlers in this area enjoyed an unparalleled 70 years of unbroken peaceful relations, trade and co-existence. 

The only thing that really divides people is an inability to respectfully communicate. It’s not our beliefs, our differences, our desires, or our cultures, but our inability to respectfully and successfully exchange ideas about them.

When you are able to communicate, you can’t be divided.

A person with a real ability to communicate is empowered to cross over to different cultures, different convictions and faiths, and make real friends and allies, to create a world where you are helping others and they are helping you.  Where real exchange begins.

William Penn was such a man.  And so was Tamanend, Chief of the Lenape.

These men are living examples that with the ability to communicate comes a real exchange of ideas and, with that, we are able to create real understandings, with which we can create unity and union.  We are able to unite our existences, unite our efforts, unite our powers, unite our minds, unite our spirits, unite our hearts.  Unite our forces.

To me that’s what Thanksgiving is all about. Spending time with those with whom we enjoy the most fulfilling communication, the deepest emotional and spiritual unions, with those special people with whom we can communicate and who most nourish our hearts and our souls. Enjoying the blessings successful communication and human relations bring.

I wish you a very beautiful Thanksgiving. I personally am very grateful for you. Every time I reach out and communicate and know that my communication has been received, I feel a well of gratitude.  Thank you for being there.

Love,

Ingrid

In public they referred to each other as, “Mr. Madison” and “Mr. Jefferson”.  They began their many letters to each other with the grave formality of, “Dear Sir”. 

But in private, they were Jimmy and Tom.

They met in 1776 and became the best of friends instantly.  They enjoyed an unshakable 50-year intellectually and emotionally satisfying friendship that had tremendous significance not only for their own generation, and not only across several continents, but for, as they called them, “the millions yet unborn” who would live and discuss their words, their philosophy and their decisions for hundreds of years after they were written.

The three volumes in the photo above are called The Republic of Letters.  They contain the 1,250 letters Jefferson and Madison wrote to each other.  For the most part, these are long, long letters going on for pages and pages.  The letter Madison wrote to Jefferson about the Constitutional Convention in 1787 was 17 pages.

I am deeply immersed in these letters.  They read like a fabulous novel.

Most people read books ABOUT people.  I’m not crazy about that.  I like to read what’s called “primary sources” – words directly communicated by the person themselves.

Let me put it this way.  I would much prefer to spend three hours talking TO you than spend three hours with someone else talking ABOUT you (that would drive me nuts).  I don’t like talking about people.  I like talking to people.

They would have agreed with me on this.  Madison wrote, “It has been remarked that the biography of an author must be a history of his writings.  So must that of one whose whole life has in a manner been a public life, be gathered from his manuscript papers on public subjects, including to as well as from him.”

Jefferson agreed wholeheartedly: “The letters of a person, especially of one whose business has been transacted by letters, form the only full and genuine journal of his life.”

These Republic of Letters are extraordinary.  I find a level of intelligence here that I am constantly seeking.  Reading them I directly get the spirit of the men, of the friendship, of their state of mind, of their ideas, of the time in which they lived.  I feel their personalities.  I feel them.  They make me laugh.  They make me think.  They make me look.  They make me take sides.  They teach me.  They develop my acumen, my ability to reason, to think critically, to make good judgments.

Their letters contain everything you would expect from best friends.  They shared their life experiences, their emotions, their sympathies, their likes and dislikes, their views, their passions.  They had lively arguments, they gave each other advice, they sent each other gadgets and plants.  The letters are vibrant with lives lived during one of the most critical and exciting periods of history.  They treasured each other’s thoughts.

When Jefferson sent Madison one of the first copies of his highly acclaimed book Notes on the State of Virginia, he wrote him, “I beg you to peruse it carefully because I ask your advice on it and ask nobody’s else’s.”

They collaborated and worked together.

Jefferson had written a Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom. 

In the preamble he argued that:

“Almighty God hath created the mind free; that all attempts to influence it by temporal punishments or burdens, or by civil incapacitations, tend only to beget habits of hypocrisy and meanness … that our civil rights have no dependence on our religious opinions, any more than our opinions in physics or geometry … and finally, that truth is great and will prevail if left to herself, that she is the proper and sufficient antagonist to error, and has nothing to fear from the conflict unless by human interposition disarmed of her natural weapons, free argument and debate; errors ceasing to be dangerous when it is permitted freely to contradict them.”

These ideas were very controversial and, encountering much opposition, Jefferson was unsuccessful in getting the necessary votes for adoption.

While Jefferson was in France in 1785, Madison successfully fought for passage of the Bill in the Virginia Assembly.  He gleefully wrote to Jefferson of his victory, “The enacting clauses passed without a single alteration, and I flatter myself that I have in this country extinguished forever the ambitious hope of making laws for the human mind.”

Jefferson celebrated his friend’s achievement: “The Virginia act for religious freedom has been received with infinite approbation [approval] in Europe and propagated with enthusiasm.  In fact, it is comfortable to see the standard of reason at length erected, after so many ages during which the human mind has been held in vassalage by kings, priests and nobles; and it is honorable for us to have produced the first legislature who has had the courage to declare that the reason of man may be trusted with the formation of his own opinions.”

Like many friends, their spectrum of topics was far-ranging.  After writing about very serious political issues, Jefferson could end one of his letters with something like, “PS  Could you procure and send me a hundred or two nuts of the Pecan?  The seeds of the sugar maple too would be a great present.”

If you ever ate pecans from the South, you would certainly understand this request! J

Madison was deliriously happy when Jefferson sent him phosphorescent matches.

In short, they wrote about everything.  Their letters ended with the elegant manner of the time, “I am with very sincere esteem, Dear Sir, Your friend and servant …”

Reading their letters takes me through a long lifetime of hopes, dreams, aspirations, despairs, victories, loves, losses and deep reflections.  It takes me through a period of history as an eye witness to the events of the day.  I’m seeing what they see.  I’m feeling what they feel.  I’m understanding as if I were there.

In this beautiful 50-year friendship there were many, many disagreements.  They each sought the other’s views and their friendship was big enough to accommodate their disagreements. 

Jefferson was passionately disappointed the US Constitution was ratified in 1788 without a Bill of Rights, a shortcoming he felt was severely destructive of liberty.  Madison in vain justified and tried to convince him to understand its absence.  Their debate is respectfully conducted and enlightening to read.

In all of 50 years, there was never a conflict, never an unpleasant argument.  Not a one.  They understood each other, accepted each other, valued each other, respected each other, loved each other, and needed each other.

After Jefferson died, 10 years before Madison, Madison wrote, “We are more than consoled for the loss … by the assurance that he lives and will live in the memory and gratitude of the wise and good, as a luminary of Science, as a votary of liberty, as a model of patriotism, and as a benefactor of human kind.  In these characters, I have known him, and not less in the virtues and charms of social life, for a period of fifty years, during which there has not been an interruption or diminution of mutual confidence and cordial friendship, for a single moment in a single instance.”

Several months earlier Jefferson had written to Madison, “The friendship which has subsisted between us, now half a century, and the harmony of our political principles and pursuits, have been sources of constant happiness to me through that long period.  To myself you have been a pillar of support through life … be assured that I shall leave with you my last affections.”

Sitting in the Sunday sunshine on my patio with cats scampering about, bees enjoying the lavender, butterflies dropping in for a visit and hummingbirds stopping by for lunch, I am grateful to be invited in by Tom and Jimmy’s letters to enjoy the luxury of such a friendship. 

It greatly expands my vision.  I clearly see what happens when two great beings, two great intellects, form a life-long friendship that strengthens and enhances each of them.  A friendship that fulfills a greater purpose than most friendships entertain, a purpose to make a better world and the belief that we, as individuals, can make a difference far beyond our immediate lives. 

I have never seen a friendship like this and I am grateful that these letters open a window for me to see so deeply and so intimately something so rare.

Wishing you the joys of deep friendships and great intellectual and emotional satisfaction.

Love,

Ingrid

I’ve been posting on Facebook the things that Flowers have been saying to me.  Not surprisingly, I’ve had people ask if Flowers really speak to me.  Well, actually, now that you ask … yes, they do.

All living things talk to me. Of course, just like people, some are more interested in conversation than others. Some just have one thing to say and they’re done. Others have a LOT to say and they like what I want to talk about.  So a conversation ensues.

For example, the above photo is a wild Fuchsia (pronounced fyoo – shuh) bush growing in my yard. I invited it to grow there, but that’s another story, like a fairytale most would never believe.

When it was a little teeny tiny, small thing, it was so proud.  It was singular amongst the green, so very proud of finding its way there, of creating new growth, standing tall and, above all, standing out as itself.

It was so proud too of being a Fuchsia, of presenting to the world such a vibrant face of dazzling purples and pinks, a flower like no other.

We greeted each other like new friends, quite happy to meet. I was beside myself with delight to have such a beautiful being want to be with me. And she was elated to be recognized for who she is.

In Spanish, Fuchsia is called Pendientes de Reina, the Queen’s Earrings.  When I told her this, my Fuchsia laughed and said, she actually feels like the Queen herself.

Despite being in an environment that “technically” lacks the nutritious soil that Fuchsias need, my Fuchsia found instead tremendous spiritual nourishment because everyone, all the living beings in my garden and in my yard, were enchanted that the dazzling Fuchsia should join us. The powerful 75-food Pine Tree guarding over her especially enjoys her beautiful company, and she his many years and tall protection.

I’ve been marveling to see the Fuchsia growing stronger and bigger every year, truly spreading her wings.

We now have the beautiful friendship that only gets built over time and quantities of quality conversations. She cheerily greets me in the mornings as I go for my early runs, and warmly welcomes me back at the end of the day when I come home from work.  

My Fuchsia actually smiles.  She blooms whenever she wants to and often.

What my Fuchsia knows, that many don’t, is that when you really take a good look at it for yourself, you realize that you don’t have to live by “the rules”, you can make your own. Ones that make you happy. Pretty much all the living beings in my gardens and around my house think that way too.  It makes for a pretty happy household.

And don’t even get me started on the magnificent, brilliant trees, the bees, the butterflies and the deer.

All living beings communicate.  Communication is what living beings do.  Communication is life, and being alive means you can talk to the world around you and hear what all the other living beings have to say.  I do believe that this plus love is what makes the world go round.

May you be surrounded by beautiful life, flowers that talk to you, and rules of your own making.

Love,

Ingrid

The cats and I had a Sun Bath Friday afternoon.  It was too beautiful to work.  Warm, blue sky, sunny, flowers blooming in the backyard, soft fragrant breezes, waving lovely colors gently.

The outdoor breezes called to me and I lay down on the patio. The cats seem to think that was a good idea and they all came to lie down on the patio with me. And then the sun washed us.

Sun Bath.

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, tell me if you have, but if you let it, sunshine cleans out old cobwebs in your soul.  It gets into all the nooks and crannies deep inside, warms them with sunshine and scrubs out the old dust and grime.

The cats do this rolling around thing that only cats can do, perhaps you’ve seen it, rolling from one side to the other, stretching out their arms, lifting one arm in the air, lying spread-eagled for a moment, then rolling to the other side, lifting the other arm. Must be cobwebs under there.  That photo above is Munchkin luxuriating in the sun, getting his cleaned out.

I didn’t roll around so much, just lay there feeling the sun clean out the winter. Ten minutes and I was washed clean and smelling of sunshine.

A big stretch and I was done. Smiling, smelling good, all clean.

The cats winked at me as I went back inside. 

Wishing you a big dose of sunshine in your own life!  And a very happy Spring!

Love,

Ingrid