Mortality reminds us that every day is precious. Every day is an opportunity to appreciate this beautiful planet, the bodies in which we live, our dear friends and family. I thank death for reminding me.

It’s a reminder for me that we all see things, like laptops, in different ways. We see situations from different vantage points.

It’s an odd talk for a Sunday afternoon. I wouldn’t have brought it up if our president hadn’t faulted Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion for an aircraft collision.

It's a practice of mine to enjoy the movement, the rush even, of a weekend day to co-create stillness on my lunch hour mid-week. I hold this hour as sacred between teaching classes. It is filled with love.

It's good to remember that we can choose the happiest version of others' possible intentions. We feel more like our best selves. Giving someone the benefit of the doubt is for our sake as much as theirs.

I am blessed to share this time with Trin. Every moment spent with my grown boys is cherished.

Why this light? Why now? It’s unnerving, and I laugh. The light moves through the room as I teach. Now, it beams down through the skylight.

This tomato made it to that unmarked finish line, the furthest run. Sweet glory incarnate. It’s destined for that final tomato and grilled cheddar sandwich. In December. Unforgettable.

Unity can be experienced in a flash, and it can last a lifetime. What helps us bond is the willingness to give and receive. I’m thanking the lichen for that lesson.

The world around us is so much more than nice or pretty. Every one of us—every one of you—is exquisite. Captivating. Just waiting for someone to remove their glasses and take a closer look.

Responsiveness is divine. It’s the stuff of co-creation. We can’t co-create without others. They sail that tennis ball back to our end of the court, rarely where we expect them to send it.

Creating is exciting. Co-creating is even better. You never know what's going to happen or how. Someone who suggested we meet up for a hike couldn't make it. The players shift and change, but every contribution counts. Each shapes the culture and activities a group stands for.

The rose who blooms these long nights of November will not stand down. Children stop to sniff, but her scent is faraway, like the long days of summer. The rose bows in reverence to what's lost, and still she perseveres.

The view from the top allows us to assess, gives us distance from each individual care, so we can pull them altogether as one. How our lives fit us from this perspective is all. I am poised here, orchestrating my masterpiece. That's really all we have.

In this space of witnessing, of feeling with one side and another, learning emerges. I wonder, how can we better hear what's important to each other on a grander scale? How can we better see across party lines into the heart of pain on one another's "side"?

I meandered to my gate, 3 hours early, and happened to see on the board that the plane at that moment was leaving the gate for Portland. Had I been stressed, this would likely have not registered in my visual field. We see and hear less when stressed.

With priming, it's more important to dial in to the feeling than it is to imagine the specifics of how you want to see those feelings come to be.

Most honeysuckle is not edible, but this beauty is indeed. Its berries taste like liquid toffee to me, though it's heralded to be a "chocolate berry.”

A beloved has moved on from this planet. She paints with the clouds, whispers secrets in the wind. My friend is gone, and she is everywhere.

The fruits of our efforts arrive when neural pathways are forged and trust is built.