Day 1

It seems strange to me—in America we let our dogs pee whereever we want, but not our people. To relieve oneself by a tree, regardless of the state of emergency one is in, is to risk arrest. Why do we give our pets more rights in this arena than our people?

Day 2

Why do cucumbers get the title pickles? Shouldn’t they be called pickled cucumbers? You can pickle anything organic—eggs, ham, peppers—probably not fruit roll-ups—I can only conclude that cucumbers while delicious, are corrupt to have influenced the Pickle Federation to the extent of supervening all over vegetables to be known as pickles.

Day 3

l don’t understand how lost to one another we are. In my head I do. In my heart I do not.

Example: On the NYC Subway, it’s like we are all afraid to look at one another—hiding in phones and headphones. What would the subway be like if we opened up to celebrate each other’s propinquity in these moment of time? Imagine each car had a different theme with a different facilitator camped out for the day? In this car we’re singing. In that car we’re learning about science . In this car we’re dancing. In that car we’re sharing silence. In this car we’re chanting mantras. In that car we’re praying. In this car we’re meditating. In that car we’re sharing poetry. . .

. . . I play a game every time board the train—procure 1 genuine human interaction—real human connection is eye to eye contact. Sometimes it’s a smile. Sometimes as I’m leaving the train I turn to someone and catch their eyes and say, “You’re amazing.” And I know they are. I know they are as human as I—know they go through the same journey of emotions and setbacks and attempts at seeking and finding and losing and holding on and letting go and doing the best they can given what they have to work with—I know sometimes they’re lifted and let down and I admire them so much for facing that day and boarding the train—I know they’re an essential player in this game called life and deserved to be recognized for their unyeilding participation in this sparkling situation called life on earth.

Day 4

When I’m in the US fundraising for the kids in Guatemala, my focus here isn’t helping the kids, but on helping us here connect with our own power to transform lives.

I can’t help but believe that this is the only way we can truly help ourselves get out of our hardships, by forgetting about ourselves and figuring out what we can do to help each other. I’m pointing to the kids in Guatemala, but I’m looking at the person in front of me and asking, “What does this person need to make his or her heart bloom? How can I help them to see that they already have everything they need—they’ve made it to the prosperity humanity has been hankering to hold ever since we left the cave. They have the power to transform lives, and if that understanding can move from the head to the heart, nothing will stop them from shedding light and love with every single step.”

Day 5

Jerry the Hamster is the ace up my sleeve. For 6 years I’ve carried him around the world… but in the not so distant figure, he will carry me to long ago dreamt dreams.

Day 6

Okay, let’s do it guys, let’s talk about pornography.

When researchers first tried to study the affects of high speed Internet on the brains of college aged males in 2010, they couldn’t find a control group — I.e., everyone was consuming it. Its ubiquitous, but no one really talks much about it because many of us hold a secret shame in one hand and a mouse in the other…

Outside of the fire and brimstone warnings from the old guard, research has come to show that there’s a cognitive consequence for consuming porn. I wish more people were talking about this—I wish when I was a teenager and young adult more men had been unafraid to broach this issue—because it wasn’t until my friend Paul in 2014 talked to me about this that I understood these consequences and recognized the price my life was paying for my porn consumption. Porn easily fills the space of addiction—I used it often to cope—it was a good way to disconnect and bury difficulties rather than face them—it came with a price of decrease connection with actual viable females. Once Paul filled me in on his own path away from porn, my eyes were open and I couldn’t unsee what was there—so I had the information to set intentions and choose, rather than being swept away in a current whose flow I didn’t understand the origins of.

For detailed information on this, a great resource is YourBrainOnPorn.com

Day 7

Those who do not see The Divine in all the world’s major religions must not experience It in their own.

Day 8

It has struck me deeply, often in times of pain or despair, that the happiest people I have encountered on this earth are the ones who had the most ostensible reasons to be miserable. Yet they were not.

I think of Aditya, the beggar without legs I would share a chai with in Dharmsala last summer on my way back from the Dalai Lama’s temple. He glowed, bursting with joy—I’ve rarely happened upon such inner bliss and light on this earth.

I think of Edwin, the physically impaired man who hobbles through the streets of Antigua, it takes him 15 minutes of struggle to cover one block—he’s not a beggar, even though many with disabilities lesser than his resort to that—he’s a workhorse—hustling, selling bracelets and taking photographs of tourists to support his wife and daughter. And he’s happy—so happy.

Somehow in spite of their limitations, they’ve become fully free to happily be.

Day 9

We all have our own walls now. What kind of wall do you want yours to be?

I want mine to be a wall where kids come with crayons to make their art, unafraid of rules set down by the less imaginative. On both sides, I want graffiti and windows, doors and ladders leaning against pointed to the sky. I want there to be initials surrounded by hearts, song lyrics and sayings painted from that well within that needs to express—I want every blank space covered with something of you intersecting something me. I want passerbys and pedestrians to scratch their heads puzzled, enlivened, and a bit confused, wondering what strange street they’ve stumbled down, unsure if they should call the police or start a riot.

So when these bricks finally fall, I want what was contained to run beyond the boundary, amazed by what was there on the other side all along.

Day 10

Miracles aren’t often great flashes of light. They’re moments when we somehow break through an old habit, grief, or grudge. Forgiveness is miraculous. They’re the moments when we turn from a path that no longer serves us to one that does. They’re the help that arrives just when we’d just about given up hope. They’re fueled by our own sincere intentions and enacted by each other. They’re those helping hands that reach out to us when we most needed it. They multiply. So as we were helped by another we can’t help but reciprocate. So what will we do with such divine possibilities to irrevocably remake the world into a miraculous smiling place?

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I have a new poetry book out. It’s called “All the Beloved Known Things” and I’m so happy it’s out in the world. Please check it out 🙂