Shared Journey

There is a genuine sense of kinship in the air, cultivated by realness and open hearts I can’t deny. It has spread across the country and blossomed in all different shades and forms, like a wildflower meadow, completely untamed and natural in the beauty, peace, and sense of home it brings.

It reminds me of a poster from my Positive Messages Project I’m currently still working on——one of the posters from the original collection I made years ago. I have since written new messages and put a few old, irrelevant posters aside, including the one that, ironically, this meadow of kindness reminds me of:

See everybody as your brother, sister, mother, father, grandparent, friend, etc, etc.

The original innocent meaning got warped over the years, as seeing strangers as family members and friends got messy and dangerous in the dark days, but now I’m remembering what I meant when I first made that poster. We are all part of a naturally seeded garden, and when free to discover that meadow or field out in the wild where our hearts can truly blossom, it’s easy to see and feel that we are not so different, and our uniqueness is what colors us vibrant.

On my way out to Buffalo, Wyoming, I could feel this first in a town bordering Lake Erie, where the grocery store clerk wanted to share in my curiousity about the abundant mayflies. She and I could both feel a cluster of onlookers——not insect-winged——listening from a distance, but we held each other, energetically, as friends and real people, as she continued to brave through all anxiety and pressure that could have been stirred by the mayfly infestation and possible metaphors surrounding.

“They come up from the lake and only live for one day.”

A sign of good clean water, she continued, as pollution affects whether or not they come up, but all in all, it wasn’t the details of the conversation that stood out, but her fearless open heart that stuck with me. She let all strangeness fade aside as she spoke through the slight discomfort, and I too held strong and open as our little patch of green grass, cultivated together, grew in that tiled grocery store.

And how that grass continued to grow! Real grass. The kind that feels good between bare toes and lays the carpet for our ceiling-less, open world.

Part vacation, part exploration, part wildly inspired, part perfectly planned——my journeys are never just mine, especially now. I find that we are all journeying together, rediscovering what it means to be human in the world and care so much for each other. Like the kids off to the side of the 90 West gas station, offering lemonade at any price, I too feel spring green and brand new. There’s an inspiring flow we can all be a part of, where expectations are none and possibilities endless. We take our hearts, our projects, our passion, and presence out into the world, and suddenly we realize we are not alone——not in what we occasionally sense, not in what we’ve been through, and not in how big and powerful our collective love as a People is. We are the parents, the children, the listeners, the speakers, the co-founders, and collaborators all the same. We really are what makes this country and this world. Strip away all uniforms, masks, and white coats, and what do we have? People caring about people. People and healing so real, natural, and instinctual, I can absolutely feel it.

And now, here in Buffalo, where the cotton pollens the air like snow——just the way I remember it——“fun” becomes kinder too. Suggestions for fun activities invite me to stroll my cat along the creek trail and take the long way back from a hike through the canyon. “Fun” could be other things too, but as Todd Perelmuter would say, I’ve become kinder (as opposed to “nicer”) in my own way as well. I find it easy to say “no thanks” and admit that I’d rather be snuggled back at the hotel with my cat than at a no-entry-fee bar listening to open-mic music. There is no judgment or offense——not either way. Only honesty and self-love, and the long-lasting Thank God of finally being true to myself (and a good cat-mom to my cat).

Our creativities and interests blossom us here and there, but when we can get back to the basics——a notebook and pen, a lemonade stand and quarter jar——we suddenly remember why we became so devoted. Today, I took myself out to the nearby woods and gathered sap from the Ponderosa Pines. The nuggets looked like a mixture between gold and bee pollen, and they felt just as valuable in my hand. We’re worthy. Our experiences, our lives, our precious time and love——it’s all worth exploring and allowing the space and time to nurture so when we finally know ourselves and can see others, the mutual worth is obvious in all our hands.