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I met Janne Robinson in 2014 in New York City. It was her first time ever in New York and she was soaking in the frenetic energy with a unique verve that belied the fact that she was also a complete fish out of water. Janne is a Canadian-born poet, who’s more at home in an old growth forest or a warm ocean with an endless set of head-high waves than a bustling city. Yet, she’s also a people’s poet. People, especially women, and the way society shapes them, fascinate her–it’s the fodder for her work. Her writing is electrified by her raw, provocative and outspoken voice. Over the years she’s garnered a strong following of both women and men inspired by her invitation to “Walk Tall” and live each day in the vulnerable power of their authentic truth. But when I first met Janne, I had actually never read her work.  She was writing for a few online publications at the time and as two writers meeting, we started talking shop–exchanging notes on the projects we were each working on. She had me read one of her poems, which had already been published and read online over 1 million times. It was titled “This is For The Women Who Don’t Give a Fuck”. As I read each line, I saw them coming to life in a film. I saw different women from the streets of New York speaking each line. I urged her to cross over into video. Within less than 24 hours she already had over a dozen women from an open call on social media lined up to be featured in the film the very next day. Once again I was impressed by her verve and her commitment to actually make something happen – and so quickly! Together, on the streets of New York we produced the film version of “This is For the Women Who Don’t Give a Fuck”. It was produced in the same raw, off the cuff and authentic manner of Janne’s writing. Each woman got to choose the line that most resonated with her to read on camera. I spoke a line in the film and from that project a partnership was forged between Janne and RedFlag.org, the nonprofit platform for activism I launched in 2008.  The film attracted hundreds of thousands of views and it was soon clear a movement was forming. Shortly after Janne launched the platform “This is for the Woman” to encompass all her creative, leadership and coaching work. The next film we produced together was also based on a poem Janne had written titled “I Will Never Be A Well Behaved Woman”. She took the reigns on this film with a clear vision to engage a community she had been building through her time living and working in Costa Rica. One the film was finished we spent a few years trouble-shooting with the filmmaker who had possession of the footage. In the meantime, we watched women’s voices get louder and louder around us through an array of global movements that sparked us to the core. Though slightly delayed in its launch, the film feels more timely ever. RedFlag.org is so honored to be part of its creation and to have the privilege to share it on our platform. Janne and I have now become dear friends and in preparation for the launch of “I Will Never Be A Well Behaved Woman” we shared a dialog around the meaning behind the work, the experience creating the film and what’s driving Janne and her work right now.

Interview with Janne Robinson and Nicole Davis, founder of RedFlag.org:

Nicole Davis: What is a “well-behaved woman”?

Janne Robinson: A well-behaved woman has no fly-hairs on her head. Her worth is what she’s been told—that’s to be nice and pretty. She is not allowed to contain the multitudes of all of who she is for she is so tightly in a box by society and the world she said “yes” to that she has forgotten her wildness and what is sacred inside of her heart begging to be said. A well-behaved woman paints quietly while she knows her husband is fucking another woman and gets walked on like your bathroom rug. She is an object—a mother, a wife. She is not allowed to roam free and be free to be. The shoes she walks in are chosen for her and she has forgotten that they are her feet that move them.

Nicole Davis: Who is this video speaking to?

Janne Robinson: Any woman who feels suffocated by living inside the box of our society. Any woman who is building her own box. I wrote this poem and made this film to give women access to their own values, beliefs, and truth and to toss aside anything that doesn’t contain the spirit of who they are. This video is permission for a different way—a way that is only in the webs and wrinkles of every woman’s individual fingers. I want women to watch this and exhale that they have permission to live in a way that may have been lived by no one before and that is “right” for them. I want women to take back their narratives and power as I truly believe this is what we need to re-balance and heal our world.

Nicole: When did you write the poem? Do you remember the moment and the feeling that sparked it?

Janne: I wrote this poem in Costa Rica. I was volunteering at a butterfly garden in exchange for food and board. I was broke and starting my dream. I rented my cabin out on the Sunshine Coast a few months before because I couldn’t afford to live in Canada and my spirit couldn’t afford to pour black coffee into the mugs of rednecks one more day of my life. I lived in a tiny dusty town on the coastline of a peninsula in Costa Rica because I was thirsty for experiences and a different way of life. I knew writing was my way but was still working on my emotional relationship with money and my worth. I had poems and articles with millions of views, but couldn’t figure out how to capitalize or support myself. I’d pick grass on hillsides for caterpillars and feed large blue butterflies papaya and pineapple in the afternoon. I was making a few bucks here and there to cover my other costs of living—I pitter pattered away at my dream writing 14-17 articles and poems a month for wellness publications. It was my second beginning. My first beginning was when I walked away from Edmonton, selling condos in a life that wasn’t mine.

“I will never be a well-behaved woman” was written after one of the most beautiful nights of my life. I smile when I read these and remember walking home smelling like the ash of fire and romance:

“I would rather swim naked with bioluminescence, have it fall like fireflies from my hair, my breasts, my back.

I would rather do handstands naked in the moonlight when no one’s watching than pick bridesmaid dresses.

I would rather drink seven year old rum from a sandy bottle, smell of smoke and ash than sit in church.”

I met a smoldering European filmmaker and spent the night engrossed in rum, and smoke before skinny dipping under the moon with the most vivid and alive bioluminescence I’ve ever seen—I remember standing up out of the water and looking down at my body and seeing large white sparkles of bioluminescence falling off of my breasts in the night air. I have never seen bioluminescent that bright or bold—standing away from the water as who they are, unashamed. It was like a bloody Kerouac novel. Re-reading this poem tonight I am visited by the wildness and freedom from this part of my life. I wasn’t sure I had yet succeeded at building my own box—but I had left the matrix and that was enough to call other women forward.

Nicole: Describe the philosophy of your “This is for the Women” movement and how this piece fits in.

Janne: The “why?” of “This is for the Women” my media and apparel company came when I was hiking in British Columbia with my first mentor—an award winning author and filmmaker Dianne Whelan. One afternoon on a long afternoon walk in between the trunks of grandmother trees I expressed that I hated walking into a room full of people. That I hated having the hundreds of eyes on me and being seen–it made me want to shrink.

She turned to me and said, “I would have never have guessed. You walk tall like an old cypress tree to me.”

I realized in that moment that walking tall and taking up space was not only my work and my healing—but the medicine for the entire feminine. It’s a walk I try walk in everything I do.

Making a mission for a company that is my healing really feels like two birds with one stone (laughs) it’s pretty brilliant—really.

Nicole: How did you evolve into directing films? Did you have any formal education in film?

All of the hats I wear are self taught—directing films is spaghetti that I figured I would try throw at the wall and see if it stuck. I taught myself how to write poetry and run my business–how hard could film be? Just winging it has been a large part of my success as an artist the last six years.

One of my first mentors, Dianne Whelan taught me in my first days finding my legs as an artist that if something sticks—multi-platform it.

All of my poetry films are poems that have grown legs and ran so fast I can’t catch them—I didn’t offer to give them a voice, they took one.

The first film I made “This is for the Women Who Don’t Give a Fuck” was filmed in the stink and scream of NYC in 2015. The idea was birthed, funded, produced and executed in five days. I put a call out on my social media asking for some women in NYC who didn’t give a fuck (film was based on the viral poem with 2+ million views “This is for the women who don’t give a fuck). The video featured over a dozen women I connected with online. They all chose their line to speak—lines of the poem that empowered them. I remember one woman was going on a date that night for the first time in years since her divorce—she spoke her line with her whole spirit. I believed her.

The second film I released “I Am a Woman of Distinction” was released in December of 2018 and has garnered 400,000+ views on Facebook. This featured me charging some intimidating seven foot waves surfing and ripping through the jungle on my quad with my girl gang.

“I will never be a well-behaved woman” was directed in the jungle of Costa Rica and features seven different languages and 32 different women ages 14-60 speaking the lines of my big hitting poem “I will never be a well-behaved woman” which has been read 940,000+ times and shared over 300,000 times.

Nicole: Where do you find the women in your film? Are they actresses?

Janne: None of the women in my films are actresses. I like having non actresses speak my work—authenticity and truth is my heart beat and my why. There is something really raw about these women just choosing a truth for them and saying it from the hip–into the camera.

Seeing my poetry come alive in front of me is my favourite part of this medium.

The first poetry film “This is for the women who don’t give a fuck” is a piece of spaghetti that stuck to the wall with over 450,000+ views. A segment was licensed by Tampax for an online commercial and it was nominated for the Cannes Corporate Media and TV awards in 2016.

Red Flag and I were excited about creating something else together—which is where “I will never be a well behaved woman” (the film) was born. I had been basing myself in Costa Rica for a few months a year for the better part of 7 years. The community in Santa Teresa contains faces, languages and women from all over the world. I was really excited about having so many different women involved in a small beach town of a few thousand people.

I didn’t think about what women to include in my first film—mainly due to the time frame and rush of it. I got crucified online for not featuring enough ethnicities in it. I took that hard—as it wasn’t intentional, but I knew what they meant and I understand my responsibility.

It felt really important that my second film contain women of different ethnicities and also languages in this poem—as a woman and artist I am becoming increasingly aware that every woman needs a voice and what a privilege it is to be safe to use mine and what an honour it is to create art that speaks for women.

I think we did pretty good reflecting and representing a multitude of different women in this film—and, I am sure we can always do better next time.

Nicole: Your work is rooted in empowering women to take back their “Narrative”. When was the first time you took your narrative back?

In 2014, I got pregnant and decided to have an abortion.

The day after laying in bed healing—words began to pour out of me.

Before this I had written words that were good and pretty but lacked the depth of my soul–these words came from inside of me. They were raw and unfiltered and painfully honest.

The words that poured forth covered conversations with friends and family and my council that was neutral to conversations that were not neutral–like the doctor I went to see in Edmonton who told me “Not to get an abortion and that I would regret it”.

The story covered moments like me looking that doctor straight in the face and telling him I wasn’t there for his personal opinion, I was there for his medical opinion on what my choices were at this stage of my pregnancy. It shared how I told him that he should watch his tongue—for if I was a 14 year old girl who had yet to have found the spine of who I was, his words could have influenced my choice, her choice and the choice every woman deserves to have over her body.

The story covered the conversation I decided to have with my belly the day before my appointment. There is great discrepancy about when the soul enters the body. I decided to have a little conversation with that soul—incase it had showed up already. The story shared the words I spoke as I sat in front of my fireplace at my cabin that morning, “Hi—little soul, I don’t know if you’re in there. But if you are—right now isn’t the time. I feel so honoured you chose me, and if you want to come back later in this life I would love to walk with you. And if you want to choose another mother to raise you, I love and support you in that too.”

The words that poured out terrified me. I decided to sit on them for a few months before revisiting them and considering them for publication. I didn’t want to share it to burn the boyfriend who didn’t show up, or for attention. If I shared the story–I wanted it to come from a clean, clear and processed place.

A few months later I revisited my words and decided in the end to share it. I decided to share it because I had not found anything explaining a woman’s emotional process within her choice and procedure in having an abortion and the world needed that. So many people in my life confided in me about their abortions–in hushed whispers with shame.

I wanted to eradicate the shame attached to abortions and inform through my journey and experiences.

I submitted the piece to a wellness publication, Elephant Journal I was writing for.

At first I thought I would only share it with the 17 million readers at Elephant Journal, and not my social media.

Those 17 million readers were safe—it didn’t feel safe to share it with my friends and family and risk running into a guy I went to high school with in coffee shop in Edmonton who might awkwardly as we stir sugar into our coffee’s say, “Hey, I read that piece….”.

But when I received the email that “Aborting Shame: One Woman’s Experience Within Abortion” had been published, I remember watching the rain drop off the prayer flags hanging above my woodshed and knowing I needed to share it also with my friends, family and social media networks. It was important.

I knew it was safe to do so because I was so at peace with my process and choice and knew that nothing could alter the light within me.

I shared it on my Facebook and Instagram channels and I was called everything from “Woman of the year” to “Murderer” by my first (incredibly christian) boyfriend.

I also received 300 emails and messages and comments from women all over the world.

One of them read, “I was 16. My father dropped me off at the clinic and told me not to tell anyone—including my mother. You’re the first person I am telling.”

That is when I met my “why?”—and I’ve been sharing slabs of my heart with this world and empowering women to take back their narrative ever since.

Nicole: What was your favorite behind the scenes moments?

Janne: One of the women in the film, Ashley, a 14 year old local from Costa Rica walked up to Tyler who was producing the film. She was wearing a shirt that said “Boss Lady” on it. He looked at her and said, “I like your shirt”.

She looked right back at him with not a moments hesitation and said, “I know what I want”.

My other favourite moment was that I originally intended to be carried by a bunch of men for the opening scene.

I saw the “Formation” music video by Beyonce and thought the scene of her on top of a cop car was so bad ass. I wanted someone to be carried on top of a surf board. I liked the shock value of it.

I originally wanted it to be another woman but I was working with a coach at the time who not so gently pointed out that I often hide from being in the light of my work. He pushed me to own the spotlight in this film. It was uncomfortable for me to be the woman to be in that scene but it also pushed me to grow.

But, when the time came to shoot the scene–all of the men bailed!

I ended up getting all the women in the film to step in and carry me and it turned out better than I could have imagined.

Being raised by two gay moms and a father who didn’t show up, I had a good laugh at what a metaphor it was. The feminine have always lifted me up.

Nicole: What are you working on now?

Janne: I am 200 pages into my second book of poetry “There’s Cobwebs on Her Vagina”. This collection is titled off a poem I wrote called “There’s Cobwebs on Her Vagina” that talks about the repression–sexual and breathing that women are faced with everyday.

The poem takes place at a pap exam with a fundamentalist christian purity ring baring mother, her daughter and the gynecologist. During the exam the gynecologist removes his head from between her thighs during the exam and says:

There’s cobwebs on her vagina

the gynecologist replies

removing his head from between her freckled thighs

her mother chokes on the air

P–pardon?

It’s from a society that shames women from enjoying sex

one that puts purity rings on their fingers

promises them to the God

away from pleasure

pleasure is shameful

you hear?

God is the only one that loves you

What if the husband is a jack rabbit?

what if he lacks all there is to know about making a woman moan?

what if she dies not having her soul ripple

her body shake

fall apart

from the hands and tongue of a man

who has done his work

a lover of all things woman

God, what if he’s gay?

what if he wishes to be making love to a man?

heaven forbid her body is never touched with the tenderness

that we deserve from the moment we are born

It’s from a society that throws half naked sexualized women in sunglasses commercials

making us hide our daughters eyes

while the men laugh smoking Cuban cigars making millions

off the easiest marketing idea invented

the female body is the greatest piece of art

of course it sells

shame on us for giving it away

then playing the victims

the big bad media wolfs

forcing our hands to paper to sign

there are no victims here

women, are too blame

It’s from a society that shrieks at nipples

turns away

they’re the same as mine

But

But

They’re sexual!

Put them away

I can feel the breeze on my sweltering chest in August

but you

Must 

cover 

Yours

It’s from a society that cuts off women’s genitals

doesn’t give them the right to vote

to work

to live

to love who they choose

covers them in clothes

no, not to hide them from the sun

marries them away at fourteen

to a twenty one year old called Jose

who drinks four bottles of whisky a day

who falls asleep drunk after they have sex each night

boring

missionary sex

with no foreplay

while she speaks quietly into the night of wanting to be a lawyer

of how she would bring justice with all her might

He closes her legs

the mothers mouth is still dropped

“masturbation, 2 times a day–3 if needed”

his white coat wisps behind him as the door shuts

Oh mamma

the world we live in is changing.

I intend to create a short film of “There’s cobwebs on her vagina” as well as release this book this year. I still haven’t decided if I am going to be the gynecologist or if it will be an actor–I will need a really good one if it’s a man (laughs).

In November I am traveling to India to begin writing the memoir of finding my father 9 years ago. It’s a mix of Eat Pray Love and Mamma Mia. This is what I am most excited about creating right now.

This book will cover my parents six month love story that started living naked on the beaches and in the jungles of India, and ended within the walls of a small cabin in Whitehorse, Yukon. It will also cover my search over several years to find and meet my father for the first time. I read my mother’s journal, sent many letters and followed bread crumbs to him. I ended up finding him through his 20-year-old records from an Osho Ashram in Puna, India. I am starting in India because I want to smell, touch and taste each part of this story as I write it. I don’t think I realize yet how healing and challenging writing this book will be–or how healing it will be for anyone with a wound from a parent in their life. It will be a walk of discovery and forgiveness that is relatable to much of our human experience. I intend to turn it into a film script too–Mamma Mia, hold onto your pants.

TO WATCH THE FILM “I WILL NEVER BE A WELL BEHAVED WOMAN” CLICK HERE

Do you believe that one kind act can change a person’s world? My name is Chun Rosenkranz and I absolutely do.

At the age of twenty-five, my father had completed a graduate degree in journalism from Columbia University, and subsequently was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in history. I, on the other hand, passed my twenty-fifth year journaling in a composition notebook, sitting cross-legged on the floor of a jail cell. My addiction to opiates had left me incarcerated and hopeless, surrendering to the belief that I deserved nothing more than this self inflicted purgatory. But as it goes in all of the magical stories, something incredible happened. I became the recipient of an act of unconditional kindness that would change the course of my life forever. The simplicity of one person reaching out to another will change that person’s world, even if the giver cannot see it in the moment. It was there on a cold floor, caged and clothed in an orange jumpsuit, that the idea for the I’ll Be There Project was born. This project is the culmination of a journey that speaks to the transformative and infinite capacity of kindness and the profound possibilities that surface when individuals are empowered.

I’ll Be There’s mission is to inspire ordinary people to create hope through intentional acts of kindness. It is a growing movement of humans seeking connection to each other through creative and empathic acts. We are ordinary people that have come to understand a simple truth: that there is no real separation between ourselves and others. We are one interconnected organism that symbiotically dances in unison and we need each other in order to thrive. Now, before you discard that statement as some obnoxious neo-hippie platitude, look around at our current political climate and ask yourself if there was ever a more necessary time in our lives to reach out and be there for each other. No one is going to come and save us from ourselves. We must do it and we must do it together. As my friend Dr. Jean Houston often says, “We are the ones we have been waiting for.”

I founded this movement with the intention of seeing and showing up for people who are often relegated to the fringes of our periphery. Right now, as you read this, we are walking the streets performing simple acts of kindness. We are handing out warm winter clothing and sharing meals with people experiencing homelessness. We are going to children’s shelters and bringing toys and coloring supplies. I’ll Be There members are going into nursing homes and chatting with lonely senior citizens, listening to their stories and making each other laugh. Two weeks ago we brought toys and balloons to children in pediatric cancer wards in hospitals around New York.  The possibilities for kindness are infinite. All around us, there are countless opportunities to touch the lives of others and inspire hope…and it’s actually a lot of fun!

Last week I had the privilege gifting a wheelchair accessible van to the Porpiglia family in Florida. Their daughter Tina has had seizures since birth, leaving her wheelchair bound. Tina’s parents were having to carry her into the car and lift the wheelchair up into the trunk every time the family wished to leave the house. Tears fell down my eyes as I saw the joy and gratitude in their faces when I showed them their new van, complete with an automatic wheelchair ramp. It felt as if my life had purpose and meaning. I’m not sure who was more touched, the Porpiglia’s or myself.  But that is the miraculous byproduct of kindness, it changes both the giver and the receiver.     

You might be thinking that you don’t have the money to gift a van to a family or the time to spend a few hours in a senior center. Not to worry. Be creative! Acts of kindness can be as big or small as you like. One of my favorites is to purchase an extra umbrella and bring it with me on a rainy day. I look for that one person who has forgotten theirs and then surprise them with the umbrella. I can’t wait for you to experience the shock on their face, immediately followed by overwhelming gratitude. I promise you, both of you will leave that moment filled to the brim with a sense of compassion and connection.

So…are you in? Here’s how it works. Each journey begins with an individual performing an act of kindness and posting it on social media using the hashtag #illbethereproject. We share our acts so that we can be inspired by each other and create a sense of community. Some of you may not be comfortable taking a picture of the act or there may not be an opportunity. If that is so, please write a brief story about the experience and use our hashtag. Many of us have felt alone and saddened by last year’s election and are looking for a way to push back at the wave of otherness that has arisen. This is our chance. This simple initial act begins to dispel the sense of hopelessness and has the potential to catalyze a wave of compassion that will ripple through communities around the world. We are one human family and we have made it our mission to be there for each other. 

Chun Rosenkranz is the founder of the I’ll Be There Project and this year’s Activist In Residence at RedFlag.org. Any small act counts. If you’re inspired to act share a story here on Red Flag Magazine (email nicole@redflag.org) or instigate others to spread intentional acts of kindness by posting the creative ways you touch peoples lives to social media with the hashtag #illbethereproject.

For more info visit I’llbethere.org or check out this video featured by Upworthy 

“We are fragile creatures, and it’s from this weakness, not despite it, that we discover the possibility of true joy.” – Archbishop Desmond Tutu

We see pictures posted like these all the time – mainly on Instagram – bragging about a perfect life be it jet-set glamorous, altruistic, inspired by nature, witty, gritty or fit for Yoga Journal. We all have our idea of perfect–or at least what we think others will believe to be perfect.

This photo was actually taken in one of those perfect moments. I’m in the gardens of a villa under the Tuscan sun reconnecting with my mother country and overcome by the beauty of all these flowers blooming in one impossibly gorgeous setting. Images like these, unfortunately, fail to capture the rest us, the b-sides – the unedited stuff.

Cut to 3 unedited days later: After indulging in raw pecorino – the specialty of the region – I found myself with a multi-day case of food poisoning that left me dehydrated (no need to get into details, but you can easily fill in the blanks) in a provincial emergency room trying to explain my symptoms to the nurses in broken Italian.

The scene in the clinic was Federico Fellini meets Mr. Bean. A cacophony of characters kept filing into the waiting room clutching crucifixes and espressos. They finally brought me to see the head nurse who had just come off a cigarette break. She took my info, my vitals, my blood, and began poking at my arm trying to insert a catheter to set me on an IV drip. I felt my stomach flutter as she wielded the needle into my arm like she was weaving an intricate carpet with the threads of my veins. A heat quickly rose from the bottom of my gut and travelled up to my chest, my neck, my cheeks. Though I had never fainted before, I knew it was coming. It’s an unmistakable feeling, like a hand dragging you down into an open grave. I tried to warn her, but she didn’t understand – and then I was gone.

I don’t know where I went. It wasn’t a spiritual or mystical place. It was actually very banal. Not quite a dream, but rather a cluttered consciousness that was not my own. It was as if I had jumped into someone else’s body and was now experiencing their mind, their racing thoughts, but I was also enjoying it, like watching a sitcom on an airplane.

And then, I came back. Just like in the movies my eyes fluttered open and three faces peering down at me came slowly into focus. I had no idea who these faces were or where I was. I could recall nothing except the cluttered thoughts of some other woman’s consciousness that I had just been awoken from. The first thing I said was, “I don’t know who I am.” I couldn’t tell if I had only said it in my mind or if the words were spoken out loud, but once I did another voice in my head calmly said “You’re Nicole Davis.” Instantly, it all came back : the food poisoning, the fainting spell, the me that was me once I inventoried my entire life history. The three faces were now clear – one of them was my husband’s. A single tear careened down my cheek.

I laid still for a very long time. I couldn’t feel my feet and could barely speak.  It was like being reborn, but what was scary is that I could have just as easily stayed in that other state suspended above death. It was the most vulnerable I had ever felt. Yet, I became aware of another emotion subtly emerging : joy. In this unpleasant mishap I had learned that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter “who I am”. I could have been anyone. My clothes, my face, my walk, the DNA that makes me half Italian…none of that matters except that tear. That one ambiguous tear that fell upon waking links me to all that matters : the salt of the earth, the foam on the wave, the cool air hitting the heat of the rising sun that left the dew drops on the tea roses that made me swoon with delight in that Tuscan garden. The joy is in knowing that tear came from the depth of my soul before it knew which ego it belonged to.

In moments I was back in the room negotiating my reality again as Nicole Davis, but I felt very different. The grip of that identity was not as strong or as desperate. As the bustle of the clinic hummed around me I got to see many other patients moving through those starched halls. My heart beat for a moment within each of them: crying babies, frail elderly, even an unconscious woman sailing by me on a stretcher. Oneness.

I believe if we don’t recognize our teachers in this life we are lost. This fainting spell was my teacher in humility and also the profound magician that pulled an instantaneous understanding of the state of oneness out from its proverbial hat. But, just like the white rabbit – oneness is an elusive thing. And so the relic that remains is the salt of that tear.

When I met Chun Rosenkranz at a West Village coffee shop a few weeks ago, I went in for a handshake and was met with a hug. “I’m a hugger,” he said. I’m a hugger now too.

Ten years ago, Chun was found guilty of possession of painkillers and spent a year in a Florida jail. Addicted to the pills that landed him there, Chun was forced to go through the grueling detox process in a cell. A gay man, he felt isolated from the other inmates because of his sexuality. In the darkest time of his life, Chun felt defeated.

That same year, the seventh and final novel in the Harry Potter series debuted. While readers around the world lined up outside of bookstores for the midnight release, Chun, an enthusiastic fan of the series, was at a loss. Paperbacks quickly sold out and hardcovers, categorized as a potential weapon, weren’t allowed in jail. Unbeknownst to Chun, a friend from college bought the novel, photocopied 759 individual pages, bound them (complete with a homemade book jacket) and sent them to Chun in 200-page installments. For the giver, it was a short-lived act of kindness and compassion. For Chun, the gesture was life-changing.

This simple act of good will gave Chun a way out of the purgatory he felt he was living in. It also gave him a sense of purpose. After experiencing the powerful and lasting effect of a modest act of kindness, Chun was inspired to devote his life to the service of others. Upon release from jail, Chun applied and was accepted to Columbia University’s Masters’ program to study Social Work. Years later, the “I’ll Be There Project” was born.

The I’ll Be There Project is founded on the belief that collectively, ordinary citizens can change the world. Simple, individual acts of kindness and compassion leave an impression on both the giver and receiver and can create a ripple effect, sending forth currents of positivity.

Researchers have found that when positive emotion is passed from one person to another, the receiver is more likely to be view themselves as able and worthy, and in turn appear as such to others. In other words, positivity is contagious. Just as fear and anxiety are infectious in times of unrest, confidence and hope can be spread just as easily.

Chun executes “intentional” acts of kindness on a weekly basis, targeting those most in need. During the coldest weeks of winter, Chun purchased coats at thrift stores for those experiencing homelessness. Yet instead of simply handing them out as a favor, Chun hung them from clothing racks, allowing people to shop around before deciding on a winner. It is those carefully thought-out touches that remind those who are struggling of their worth and make them feel part of society.

On Valentine’s Day, Chun passed out individual roses to people on the subway who were alone or seemed in need of a boost. In March, Chun was able to provide a wheelchair accessible mini-van to a family whose daughter is handicapped, drastically bettering their day-to-day life. In April, the I’ll Be There Project teamed up with “Real Senior Prom” to throw a dance party for low-income senior citizens in New York City. In an age where elders are often marginalized to forgotten corners of society, these two organizations showed that a little love can go a long way. The families of the senior citizens were invited, amusing accessories like feather boas and plastic crowns were distributed and a band played oldies coaxing seniors to take to the dance floor. Most recently, Chun filled Easter baskets with hygiene products, healthy snacks, and socks for New Yorkers in need.

Chun pulls out all the stops, but powerful acts of kindness can be unplanned and fleeting as well, such as leaving an unexpectedly large tip to a server or simply asking how our barista’s morning has been. So many of us, plagued by the stresses of everyday life, rush through our days disconnected from the people we encounter. The I’ll Be There Project teaches the value of being the person who stops to have a chat with the doorman, the commuters on the subway, or someone you’re sharing an elevator with. These small gestures will send forth a jolt of positive energy, creating a chain reaction that will alter the lives of strangers.

After meeting with Chun, I became inspired to practice simple acts of kindness during my daily routine, such as buying the groceries of the person behind me in the checkout line at the supermarket, sending “you are appreciated” postcards to neglected loved ones, carrying an extra umbrella for someone who forgot theirs, and bringing homemade treats for my coworkers to ease the stress of the workplace. I found that after performing these actions –which took very little time and energy–I was met with a blissful, natural high. Reversely, when an act of kindness was performed on me, I felt the same rush of positivity and was immediately inclined to pass it forward.

It’s a tense time in America. Our politicians seem inauthentic, their views often disturbing, their motives questionable. Yet adversity has brought like-minded people together. It is tempting to feel powerless as an individual, but the I’ll Be There Project teaches us that opportunities to create change are within reach in everyday situations. Collectively and independently, we do indeed have power.

In the darkest hours of the Harry Potter epic, the Hogwarts students united against their oppressors, calling themselves “Dumbledore’s Army.” Anyone could join, so long as they believed in the power of good. I like to think of the I’ll Be There Project practitioners as a realized Dumbledore’s Army and that in the end, as the last line of the series states, all will indeed be “well”. The first step toward a peaceful world is an easy one—take advantage of your individual power and be a catalyst for change. It takes only one small gesture.

Chun encourages people to post their acts of kindness on social media using the hashtag #illbethereproject and then challenge three friends do to the same. The hope is that the acts of kindness will inspire others and create a movement that will combat the negativity we encounter on a daily basis.

I’ll Be There Project is currently the activist in residence for Red Flag.org. We have partnered up to inspire activism through daily acts of kindness. Join us by taking on the challenge to pay it forward. 

To learn more about the author, Nicole Monforton, visit her bio 

To learn more about “I’ll Be There Project” visit founder Chun Rosenkranz’s bio  

We STAND for and Demand a Clean Energy Revolution NOW. (That does not include “clean coal”, “natural gas” derived from fracking or nuclear power plants — no matter how much money these sectors spend on ironic marketing slogans.)

We STAND for the end of environmental destruction in all sectors. (Whether you believe in climate change or not, the environmental destruction taking place across the planet to uphold our lifestyles is indisputable).

We STAND for the rights of the Indigenous people of America and the treaties that protect them. (This means abiding by the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1851 in the current Dakota Access Pipeline conflict.)

We STAND for ethical governance that is impervious to corporate bribes. 

We STAND for a Just and Sustainable Society where all people are respected for their differences and LOVED as equals. 

We STAND for a police force that Serves and Protects PEOPLE not racism or corporate greed. 

We STAND for a society where women and people are free to govern their own bodies. 

We STAND for a country that doesn’t spend its entire budget on military endeavors and instead spares enough for education, free healthcare for ALL citizens, and infrastructure for a clean and sustainable future. 

We STAND for a country whose land is a safe haven for people in need of refuge. 

We STAND for a political system free from the corruption of money. 

We STAND against the corrupt use of the principals of EMINENT DOMAIN for corporate and private gain. 

We STAND for a society where wealth is measured by a new metrics. Where wealth is measured instead by how kind you are: to yourself, to other people, and to the environment. Measured by how joyful you are. Measured by how much you give and not how much you own. 

On September 24, 1970 a “pretty” package was delivered to the Miami Seaquarium, an aquatic amusement park near downtown Miami. Her name was Tokitae.

Tokitae was a four-year-old Southern Resident Killer Whale (also known as an orca) taken from her home and her family off the coast of Seattle, Washington in a roundup led by Ted Griffin and Don Goldsbury. Ted Griffin was the first man to ever swim with and perform with a wild orca. He owned the Seattle Public Aquarium (no longer in existence) and he was the first person to catch a wild orca for his shows. Later he formed a business of capturing and selling orcas for $20,000-$25,000.

On the day they captured Tokitae, Griffin and Goldsbury’s team was equipped with explosives to disorient the adult members of the pod, speedboats, and an airplane. Their mission was to take the babies from the adults so they could be sold to amusement parks around the country.

The adult orcas fought in protection of their babies and as a result one adult and four babies were killed. Those that were killed were slit open, filled with rocks, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to hide evidence of their deaths. All the living babies were taken.

Between the years of 1965 and 1975 thirteen orcas were killed during similar roundups and sixty-five babies were taken and sold to marine parks. As a result, their species lost an entire generation of future mating pairs and is now listed as critically endangered due to these roundups. Today only one of the sixty-five baby orcas that were sent to amusement parks is still alive: Tokitae.

Tokitae is a Chinook word from the native Chinook tribe that also live on the Pacific coastal waters native to the orcas, it means “pretty”.

When Tokitae arrived at the Miami Seaquarium they quickly changed her name to something that would please audiences.
They named her Lolita after the namesake character in Vladimir Nobakov’s controversial novel “Lolita”.

The plan was to have her perform tricks in an hour long show upwards of 3-4 times a day – a schedule she has been keeping every day during the Seaquarium’s operating hours for the past 46 years straight.

Even though orcas are highly social and dependent upon the nurturing company of their pod, Lolita has been living alone for 46 years in the smallest orca tank in the world in a sweltering sunny climate that is completely opposite her native Pacific Northwest habitat.

If you’ve read the novel “Lolita”, the name is eerily fitting. In the novel, Lolita, a twelve-year-old girl, is the source of fantasy and exploitation by the deluded protagonist Humbert Humbert who separates Lolita from her mother, abuses her sexually and ultimately leads to both of their deaths. In the novel her name is actually Dolores, nicknamed “Dolly” by her mother and known only to Humbert, her exploiter, as “Lolita.”

Resident killer whales from the Pacific Northwest stay with their mothers their entire lives. Female orcas are the matriarchs of the pod and live to be twice as old as the males. They can live to be 100 or even older. Lolita’s mother, known by scientists as “L25”, is still alive today at approximately ninety years old, and is said to be photographed regularly by scientists and conservation organizations.

Today the Seaquarium is celebrating 46 years of Lolita’s life within their concrete walls. I grew up in Miami and visited the Seaquarium many times when I was a child. Our school would lead field trips there. My parents would send me there with friends. It was something to do on a sunny afternoon.

Now I live minutes from the park and feel a pang of guilt and sadness when I drive by it each day. To the Miami Seaquarium, Lolita’s birthday is the day she arrived 46 years ago on September 24th. In an uncanny twist Lolita and I share the same birthday. So last year on her 45th birthday I went to see her.

The park charged me $50 admission on a Thursday afternoon. Surprisingly, the park was packed. Lolita’s second show of the day was about to begin, it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

I took my seat in the open auditorium among kids and a surprising number of adults without children in tow. There Lolita was in her solitary tank slowly swimming in circles around its rim. It was true, the tank was the smallest I had ever seen. Smaller even than the seal tank at the Central Park Zoo. The water was murky and wreaked of chlorine.
Within a few minutes the loud speakers perked up and two female trainers came skipping out with hands waving in the air onto the performers platform.

The show was longer than I imagined and still incorporated several parlor tricks that each awarded Lolita with a piece of chum.

The crowd was cheering, but several had their heads buried into their phones.

The performers sprinkled facts about orcas into their performance and made sure to stress how healthy she is. I couldn’t argue that Lolita is the oldest living orca in captivity – far exceeding the life expectancy of any other orca in captivity, which often didn’t amount to more than a year for her 65 family members – including the world famous Willy and Shamu.

What I also couldn’t deny was the sadness I felt or how pathetic she looked performing to a listless crowd on a Thursday afternoon. I couldn’t deny that this hot sunny climate with no shade to protect her skin was not her home. That she is not with her family or with another of her kind. She has been stripped of all her natural rights. Her right is to swim for hundreds of miles a day, to hunt for her food, to play with and communicate with her family in the melodic language only her L-pod knows, to live her long life with her mother, to herself become part of the matriarch chain, to bear her own children, to serve as a midwife to her sisters, her cousins, and even her own daughter. In truth, she is a slave. There’s no other way to put it.

And Lolita is not alone. There are thousands of animals across our country who were taken from the wild and placed on exhibit. Several of those, like her also have to perform every day. The practice is worldwide. It’s an epidemic of lack of awareness. We don’t recognize it as slavery. We see it as education, entertainment and even conservation.

Jacques Cousteau says it better than anyone, “There’s about as much educational benefit studying dolphins in captivity as there would be studying mankind by only observing prisoners held in solitary.”
I chose to stand behind this story because Lolita is my neighbor. In many ways she’s my older sister. We grew up together and she arrived in Miami on the day of my birthday. She’s a survivor and a symbol for exploitation of all who do not have a voice, even those like 12-year-old Lolita.

This photo was taken by Miami-based photographer David Vance. The imagery is inspired by photographer team Inez Van Lamsweerde and Vindooh. If you look closely at the faces you will see that each mouth is an orca. The provocative nature of the photo is a reference to the novel “Lolita” and the parallel between Tokitae’s story and Lolita’s story and extends to those currently living in exploitation across the world.

What’s possible for Lolita? How can we help?

The Orca Network have a plan to bring Lolita (Tokitae) back to her native habitat. To learn about it follow these links.

http://www.orcanetwork.org/Main/index.php?categories_file=Lolita

http://savelolita.org

For more info on Lolita’s L-pod :

http://www.whaleresearch.com/orca-population

We will also continue to release information, campaigns and platforms. You can check back at RedFlag.org for more opportunities.

Rio’s Summer 2016 games have begun! This year the first team in Olympic history comprised of refugees will be competing. Ten athletes were chosen out of 43 candidates – six men and four women from Democratic Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, South Sudan, and Syria. Last night at the opening ceremony they received a standing ovation.

The ethos behind the Olympic games states: “The practice of sport is a human right. Every individual must have the possibility of practicing sport, without discrimination of any kind and in the Olympic spirit, which requires mutual understanding with a spirit of friendship, solidarity and fair play.”

War disrupts the practice of many things far more basic than the practice of sport — life being among the most precious. The latest estimate of lives lost to the Syrian war alone is over 400,000.

The refugee team is a fierce and brave crew of men and women, some who represent wars and struggles that may no longer be at the forefront of our news sources, but are still very much ongoing. Since 1983, the Sudanese First and Second Civil Wars have taken the lives of an estimated 2 million civilians.

While other nations represented on the refugee team, like the Democratic Republic of Congo and Ethiopia, are currently in and out of varying states of war and peace — a result of continuing internal conflict exacerbated by rebel groups and corrupt leaders both internally and abroad. The devastation in the Congo has estimated loss of over 5.4 million human lives — making it the deadliest war since World War II.

Another ethos of the Olympic Games offers up sport “…at the service of the harmonious development of humankind, with a view to promoting a peaceful society concerned with the preservation of human dignity.”

As much as the games are about nations–it’s also about the notion of no borders. It’s about the truth that each individual embodies a unique reflection of greatness worthy of being witnessed and saluted – Olympian or not. Each time the Olympics adjourn, it is an opportunity to celebrate the world and its people. It’s an epic melding of spirit and sweat, and a blurring of borders.

This year’s first ever Refugee Team encourages us to look at the human face of these wars and to stand up and cheer for each person’s right to human dignity.

Meet the 2016 Refugee Team:

Yolande Bukasa Mabika, (28-years-old) competing in judo, originally from Democratic Republic of the Congo. Born in Bukavu, DRC, Yolande sought asylum when the war stopped her from training and competing as a judoka. applied for asylum in Brazil, where In 2013 she had traveled World Judo Championship in Rio de Janeiro and applied for assylum. She now lives in Rio  and trains at the Instituto Reação. She tells refugees,  “not to give up on hope and to keep believing, to have faith in their hearts.” *Yolande’s photo is featured as our lead image for this story to show a human face to the estimated 5.4 million lives lost to the conflicts in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Rami Anis: (25-years-old), competing in the area of swimming, originally from Syria. Rami was already an internationally competitive swimmer in Syria when war broke out. At just 20 years old Rami and his family began the journey to find refuge from the war. From Turkey they eventually crossed the Aegean Sea on a rubber boat to Greece. When they arrived they made another long journey overland until finding refuge in Belgium where they currently live. His special event is the 100m butterfly. He beautiful symbol of the freedom and the power of  the human spirit to metamorphosis in the face of any obstacle.

Yiech Pur Biel: (21-years-old), competing in short distance running, originally from South Sudan.  In 2005 he escaped war torn South Sudan on foot, running barefoot to a camp in Kenya. He has been living in Kenya ever since. His trip to Rio was his first ever trip off the continent of Africa.

Anjelina Nadai Lohalith: (21-years-old), competing as a middle distance runner, originally from South Sudan. Anjelina fled South Sudan in 2002 and settled in a refugee camp in Kenya called Kakuma — the same camp where fellow South Sudan teammate Yiech Pur Biel found refuge. She had to leave her siblings and parents behind, and hasn’t had any contact with them since.

Popole Misenga: (24-years-old), competing in judoka, originally from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Popole has been living in Rio and training with fellow teammate Yolande Mabika since 2013. Also from Bukavu, a part of the DRC particularly ravaged by war, Popole’s mother was killed and his brother went missing – leaving him alone in his search for refuge. Of the opportunity to compete in this years’ games Misenga says, “I’m going to fight for my home.”

Rose Nathike Lokonyen (23-years-old), competing as a short distance runner, originally from South Sudan. In 2002 Rose and her family escaped the war in South Sudan to Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya. Her parents have since returned to Sudan, but Rose and her siblings stayed in Kenya. Rose eventually moved to Nairobi where she trains as a short distance runner.

Paulo Amotun Lokoro: (24-years old), competing as a medium distance runner, originally from South Sudan. “As a child, he used to look after cattle for his family, and remained in his village even after his parents fled the war, until he escaped with an uncle and his sister. His journey was through the forest, he says, without food other than some fruit. He reached Kakuma refugee camp, where his mother had been living since 2004, in 2006.”

James Nyang Chiengjiek: (28-years-old), competing as a short distance runner, originally from South Sudan. James, like Paulo, also looked after cattle as a boy in his South Sudanese town, Bentiu. “After his father, a soldier, died in 1999, he remained with his mother but eventually had to flee, risking being taken as a child soldier to fight the war. He arrived in Kakuma refugee camp in 2002, and remained there until he moved to Nairobi in 2013 to train as a short distance runner with the Tegla Loroupe Peace Foundation. He is especially grateful for the people who helped him get this far.” He says, “Because I’ve been supported by someone, I want to be able to support someone.”

Yonas Kinde: (36-years-old), competing as a marathoner, originally from Ethiopia. Yonas ran away from Ethiopia in 2013 and has been in Luxembourg under international protection ever since. Before the refugee team was created, Yonas couldn’t participate in important sporting events.

I heard a story today of a woman that was raped and how she channelled her pain into art, into story.

I sat in the soft afternoon light and my entire heart contracted and heaved and sighed and cried as I listened.

I was called to write something — to do something.

To channel pain into change is activism. 

I want to offer measly words from my heart to support anyone who has ever been here.

I sit here and have words that wish to be said and I have love to give, yet I know that knowledge comes from hearing a story like I did today and wisdom comes from experience.

Rape is not something I have experienced and it is not something I wish to share wisdom on.

I usually do not speak on things I do not have experience in – I do not feel qualified to do so.

So let these words come from someone who is not wise on rape, but someone who is compassionate.

Hear them gently and if they anger you or do not resonate, please do not pick them up—let them fly by.

There are theories that we have “soul contracts” and that we choose what experiences we have when we enter this world.

That we choose pain, and joy and love and heartache.

That we are both the victim and the villain in different lives.

I agree with this theory in many capacities, but not on rape.

My wish for anyone who has had hands that were not given permission to be on their body the strength to wash the invisible finger prints free.

My wish is for you to be angry—truly angry and rage and rage and rage into the night and the day.

Rage for the injustice, the taking of your sacred skin.

My wish is for you to let yourself sit in the dark with your pain and not try and mask it or drink it or live within it as a story—I wish for you to feel it.

To truly feel it through.

To not wear it as something that must always define and be part of your story.

But an experience amongst other experiences that will happen to you.

My wish is for you to be accountable for the experience—to not run or flee from facing and upholding justice for the wrong that was done to your soul.

My wish is for you to stand and stare into the eyes of the one who harmed you one day and say, “You may have tried to take my power, but you didn’t. My power lies here, within me.”

I wish for the person to pay who did this to you.

I wish for them to feel the weight in a way that steals joy and sunshine from their life.

And at the same time I wish for you to not obsess and revenge over the wrong that was done—I wish for you to put the experience on in all the levels of emotion, process it deeply and then take it off.

Hang it up on a hook that does not need to be revisited everyday.

Forgiveness is something we often use as power and when we refuse to forgive it hurts us.

I do not wish for you to forgive who did this to you—I wish you to feel whatever you feel for the rest of time.

I wish for you to let it go or not let it go, but I hope whatever you do you find a way for it to not hurt you as deeply.

I wish you to heal, in the daylight.

I wish for your bruises to turn from black to purple to pink to green and gone.

I wish for your soul to be washed with salt and scrubbed with dirt and soaked in all that brings you joy so that you may gingerly one day enter this world with eyes that do not fear, but trust.

I wish for you to do everything you possibly can do to hold the person accountable and then I wish for you to surrender and know you have done all you can do to protect other people in this world from the same experience.

I wish for you to someday allow yourself to receive hands on your body and pleasure again.

I wish for you to not only survive this experience but go out and thrive greater, walk taller, speak louder.

I wish for no part of you to shrink or die or contract.

I wish for you to eventually walk deeper, stronger and with purpose and conviction.

We need our suffering more than we need growth and I want you to need your suffering until it no longer serves you, and then for you to release it and walk forward into the daylight.

What is it to be great?

Greatness has been in the headlines lately, with Donald Trump’s “Make America Great Again” campaign and the passing of beloved, Muhammad Ali “The Greatest of all time”.

I think that the majority of our world can agree that the only thing great about Donald Trump and political campaigns is if he doesn’t win them.

Muhammad Ali was great in the ring—but his greatness and battles reached far beyond the confines of his ability to slay in the boxing ring.

As the number of eyes grew following the punches Ali threw, he used that space to speak up against the injustices he faced—including American racism.

After Muhammad was denied service at a fountain counter due to the color of his skin, he threw his Olympic gold medal into a river.

When Ali was drafted to serve in the US army in in 1967, he stood up against the government, refusing to step forward in an Army recruiting station.

“My conscience won’t let me go shoot my brother,” Ali shared in an interview, “…or some darker people, some poor, hungry people in the mud, for big powerful America, and shoot them for what? They never called me nigger. They never lynched me. They didn’t put no dogs on me.”

He spoke even when it meant being stripped of his boxing title and sentenced to five years in prison.

His truth was his ultimate weapon against injustice in this world, not his fists.

There is a greatness that was undeniable about Muhammad Ali—and in many ways I believe it stemmed from his complete intolerance to not speak out at the injustices he faced and saw in this world, and his complete faith in his ability to create change.

“It’s the lack of faith that makes people afraid of meeting challenges, and I believe in myself.”- Muhammad Ali

Muhammad Ali believed he was great, before he had “earned” that greatness with the rest of the world.

His confidence and trust in his voice and abilities as both a boxer and speaker carved liberating pathways of truth for other ears who maybe did not encompass the backbone and the voice to speak it.

He took swings against injustice and stood up to speak even when Parkinson’s literally took his ability to speak a few years ago.

I believe that greatness is honoring our integrity and living our truths.

Not only believing, but doing.

“My way of joking is to tell the truth. That’s the funniest joke in the world.” –Muhammad Ali

Speaking our truths falls with all sorts of consequences at times and yet compromising them is the biggest price we can pay in regards to our integrity and joy.

Greatness is a friend of mine who modeled in Italy. She received an opportunity to be photographed for a project that would launch her into monetary success and fame.

At the shoot she was asked to drape a dead fox around her shoulders.

She refused, and lost both the gig and opportunity.

She has gone on to fight much bigger wolves in this world, and to use her voice to speak up against much greater things.

Greatness is the 27-year-old storyteller, filmmaker and humanitarian I had coffee with on a green beach blanket in California last week.

Who told me he remembered one time when he was mentoring his high school boys and he went to buy them dinner, the bill came to $27.00 and he only had $31.00 in his bank account. He handed it over and went, “Well, this is it.”

Greatness is those that self sacrifice for they know that giving is richness.

Greatness is my old roommate who came home one night from her shift at a homeless shelter back in Alberta saying she came outside to see a man beating another man with a chain around the man’s neck, and she jumped in to protect his head, saving his life.

Greatness is the women in politics who go to work every day and deal with sexism, shop culture and the old boys club and do their jobs regardless of the harassment they may face.

Greatness is the the young man on the bus who gets up to give his seat to someone whose bones are old and failing.

Greatness is in the poets and philosophers of our time who use their voices to speak of more than just love ballads.

Greatness is the poet who writes love ballads to lighten our hearts.

Greatness is the person who is raped, and holds their attacker accountable so they may not go on to harm others in this world.

Greatness is comedian who make us laugh at their own expense, for laughter cures our weary hearts.

I devour greatness in the clients I coach, who daily are willing to knock the ceilings off the limitations they build to keep them small.

Greatness is those that see their smallness and are willing to sacrifice and let go of their suffering to choose growth.

Greatness is not winning, or fame, or failure or success—greatness is our ability to feel our truths humming in our bellies each day and wake up and live those truths out loud.

It is taking swings and risks and losing and sometimes winning and all the while not losing sight of our integrity.

I believe that “greatness” is something that is deep in the bones of every single individual on this earth and that all we must do is believe, and believe, and believe and do.

*Photo Credit: Muhammad Ali talking a young man attempting suicide off the ledge, Los Angeles, 1981.

We join our voice with the collective voice of mourning for the lives lost in Orlando, Florida.

We do not save anybody–people choose to save themselves.

This is a hard lesson I have learned twice.

I was a rescuer for a long, long time.

I very well could have had an invisible cape with an “S” tied to my back as I zoomed around my life being in service to friends, lovers, partners, strangers–everybody.

I would meet broke travelers on hikes and they would end up spending the night sleeping in my cabin.

I would even give up my bed and sleep on the couch for people I barely knew.

I wanted to rescue and heal and give to this world, with all my heart.

We think that being selfless is a positive thing—but there comes a point when we are giving our entire self–physically, emotionally and spiritually–when we completely disown and abandon our own self-care and needs.

Having boundaries as an empath can be nearly impossible—you tangibly feel emotions of others around you like others feel wind on their skin.

There isn’t a choice of wanting to feel somebody’s pain as an empath, it just consumes you when you are near it.

I can sit beside someone on an airplane and feel their depression, suffering and pain.

I now know I have a choice whether I engage in it, but for a long time I always engaged in helping, supporting and rescuing– until it bit me in the ass hard enough, I finally listened.

For a long time my worthiness lived outside of me. To continue my story and dialogue of being unworthy, I unconsciously chose men and partners who would not show up or treat me with worth.

When they didn’t show up, I could blame the world and continue to feel not good enough and exist in a pattern of victimization.

I see my pattern starkly in relationships in my past.

I once paid for gas money for a man I was dating to get to a self-growth course in Edmonton. I also paid for his fee for the course and found him a place to stay. I covered the cost of groceries for the time we would be there and I flew there to emotionally support him during the course.

I was pregnant and had just moved into a little cabin in British Columbia.

This man I had chosen was struggling with a few things and I wanted to support him.

I used to constantly choose to put other peoples’ needs before my own.

I remember saying during my time in Edmonton with this man, “I need to know you are going to show up for my abortion in BC. No matter what, I need you to show up.”

He was struggling financially, but said he would figure it out.

He didn’t.

I was with my mother the day I went for my abortion, and mothers weren’t allowed in the procedure room–only boyfriends or partners.

I remember putting on my blue gown and laying in a bed before the procedure and swearing that I would never choose to be with another man whose mountain was not standing tall ever again.

I used to think that I was strong enough to carry both myself and the people I was with.

I used to foolishly think I could rescue people.

“If your mountain is not strong right now, I will carry you over rivers and valleys on my back. I can carry your mountain and mine”, I would say.

Well, when my mountain needed to be carried I was alone.

I chose that experience by entering into a relationship with somebody who knew they could not show up in the state they were in.

I chose that experience from a deeply unconscious belief that I was unworthy of love.

It was unconscious sabotage from the get go, for it validated my story of unworthiness.

After that experience I no longer choose partners whose mountains are not standing and tall before we enter a relationship.

It was a tipping point and a painful wake-up call.

Present day, I believe healthy relationships happen when each person’s mountain is standing strong and together we create an entire.y different thing– which is a relationship.

There is no leaning or collapsing.

There is support, but it is a two-way support system.

Both mountains are standing.

I learned this lesson more deeply when a close friend and man I had been intimate with committed suicide last year.

Even when I showed up to support him near the end of his life and attempted to carry his mountain, that didn’t save him.

At his funeral a woman I didn’t know approached me and said, “He loved you so much. I thought that love could save him.”

That haunted me during my grieving process. I thought on some level if I had been able to love him back and carry his mountain, that I truly could have saved him.

I know now, after time has passed, that isn’t true.

We choose to save ourselves.

We cannot save anyone–no matter how hard we try.

Nature is as old as time, she’s been here since the beginning and will be here long after our end. She’s twenty two million times our senior, our elder, our mother: Mother Nature. Her healing powers are so strong and soothing. Her presence is vital, and perhaps now more than ever, we need her like never before.

We are part of a great Earth, but we are a tribe that’s been disconnected from our roots. When we painted the world concrete, it sealed us out from her. It created a barrier, a separation. The only way to connect again, is to just hang out with her, take a walk barefoot in her presence, take a bath in her forests. “Shinrin-yoku!” –for you and me that means forest bathing! I’m not talking about having to go streaking in the forest or anything (feel free to!), but if you’re not familiar with the Japanese tradition, picture it as just a walk in the park. Literally. It isn’t always easy to find a nice little oasis or forest smack in the middle of an urban area, so parks can do the trick. Try to find a quiet hour where you can take a break from LED screens, and television. In the morning where the hectic activity of civilization hasn’t woken up yet, where there are still only a few cars on the roads, where you can enjoy a moment for yourself of peace and quiet.

One of the greatest benefits of Shinrin-yoku, might come when breathing in natural phytoncides. These are anti-microbial substances the plants and trees produce to protect themselves against insects. Holistic medicine and aromatherapy widely use these phytoncides because when we breath it in and it enters our bodies, a reaction occurs where the production of a particular kind of white blood cell is increased, improving our body’s ability to fend off and fight cancer and disease. Several studies performed in the United States have concluded that spending time in the outdoors helps improve concentration and focus. It can be walking for as little as fifteen minutes, the healing environment of the woods may reduce stress levels, decrease blood pressure, promote longer and more refreshing sleep and improve mood.  Nature might not be a cure all for everything, but neither is the prescription medication that we payed for that may have long-term negative effects. Be kind to nature and you will see that she is a powerful friend to have.

Happy bathing everybody!

To me falling in love feels like being in a field of tall swaying grass in golden light with dusk crickets singing.

Feeling my toes on the rich dark earth and smiling shyly.

When I start to feel myself falling for someone, I am running barefoot through that field, feeling the grass run through my finger tips, laughing, looking over my shoulder asking, “Are you coming?” And I turn only long enough to hear the answer before charging forth with unhindered joy.

In that field comes all sorts of things.

Amongst the excitement and adrenaline of falling in love and the “what if this is my person” moments, I often get a case of the vulnerability chicken shits.

You know, when you feel your heart is exposed and opening?

And this state of being is a new context in entirety than you’ve existed in—a context of togetherness.

And as the yumminess of togetherness sits in so does the knowingness of sharing a space in your heart with a new human.

And then as you’re mooning away in your heart, all of a sudden the uncontrollable possibility that person could leave sits in.

Which leads you to the “AHH! I feel all these new breezes in my heart and they’re new and therefore actually really scary!” moment.

I coin these moments the vulnerabiliy chicken shits.

Sometimes vulnerability is exciting and fun, and sometimes it is terrifying.

At some moments in my life I hit the escape button when the vulnerability chicken shits show up.

That button looks like sabotage, running, or pushing someone away.

Because the context of togetherness with someone, after being comfortable in my own context of solitude and aloneness is a stretch.

It’s a big ass new boundary to live in and explore and adjust into.

There are sock drawers to share, beds to share, toothbrushes even.

I always think of new contexts in our lives like moving into a house.

The first night, surrounded by half unpacked boxes, you lay in bed and notice the fridge buzzes annoyingly and the floors creak and you hear a weird sound in the basement.

And you lay in bed thinking, “I hate this place. It will never be as amazing as my last home. I should try to move back.”

And then after a little while of existing in that new context you don’t realize the fridge buzzing, and you look forward to the creak on the faded cedar floors.

You have to be willing to vibrate outside of what you know, to make space for what you truly desire.

It’s a choice to stay—in these new contexts—when we sometimes want to squirm.

Sometime’s it’s okay to squirm while staying, too.

Our boundaries don’t give a fuck if we have a poker face on or if we’re crying through it–they just know when we shrink and when we stand tall.

Tonight I had the vulnerability chicken shits, and I stayed.

You are at the local café, ordering your midday salad. You casually greet the young cashier; “Hey, how are you?” “Good, and you?” “Good, thanks.” You look up momentarily to take note of the cashier’s face and body, the jeans and sweatshirt she wears. You look at her and then you look away, refocusing your attention on your wallet as you struggle to find the correct card to pay with.  A perfect state of safe detachment. You pay for your salad and eat while staring at your cell-phone, surfing Facebook and checking emails.  You lose the cashier’s face by the time you leave the café.

Does this sound familiar?

If you were to be honest with yourself, how many people do you feel you may interact with in this way on a daily basis? How many people have you seen having these exchanges this week? Think about it for a moment. In today’s world, many of us have learned to look AT each other– not into one another. We may find ourselves, judging, critiquing, comparing. Rarely do we take the time to do more than acknowledge the people who walk past us, who serve us, who work with us. The connection is bypassed, the potential gift of a relationship lost.

So the question becomes clear: How can we begin to repair, build, and nurture these connections?

The answer becomes even clearer. Seeing with eyes of love.

What does that even mean? How would I know what that feels like? Thus comes the simple and profound beauty of Eye Gazing. The act of locking eyes with another human and holding their gaze for as little as 60 seconds. Yes, it might feel strange at first, perhaps even foreign to do so. You may find yourself  becoming uncomfortable as you effort yourself into the interaction. The truth is that we are not used to letting the discomfort of an intent gaze slip almost un perceptively into blessed connection.

This is what I experienced while at the “Eye Gazing Experiment” held in Miami Beach by Jolenny Piedra from Sacred Soul Living. I felt an array of emotions as I surrendered to the invitation to connect with another for 1 minute, at times, it felt like an eternity, with some others, it felt like time was not a part of it at all.

In Jolenny’s offering a quiet oasis was carved out in the center of a bustling shopping street in the heart of Miami’s South Beach. She placed signs around a patch of grass that read: “Where has the human connection gone? Share 1 minute of eye gazing to find out.” And I did, and we all did, we were about 300 hundred beautiful beings from all walks of life, from many nationalities, stages in age, professional and religious backgrounds–all of us with unique ways in which we identify ourselves. For this 1 minute, for this eye-gazing experiment, I saw it all fall away, all labels disappear.

As you encounter the same cashier at your favorite café on your next lunch break, create a space for a mini eye gazing session. As you greet her with a smile and look directly into her eyes. Practice making a concerted effort to see who she truly is. You will notice a tangible shift in perception. You begin to focus on this human being in a way that may be more intimate than you ever expected. She ceases to be a cashier. She gains a name, a vibrant life, a story.

So you look into a pair of eyes; green specked with brown dots. Wait. Just a little longer. You see a soft kindness, a gentle bravery. You see a wanderer, searching for her place in this world; “not much different than yourself,” you think. You see fear but you also see happiness. You sense a daughter on a quest for unconditional love and acceptance. A mother working to support her two children. You see her. You don’t even know her, but you start to understand her without a single word passing between you.

When Eye Gazing takes place, the shift of perception occurs in you, of course, but it also occurs in the other person. Maybe it has been years since someone has looked into your cashier’s eyes as though they were interested enough to recognize her worth and beauty. Looking at someone with love allows the person you are looking at to remember that they are loved. When you feel loved, you tend to act with more love, more tenderness, more compassion. The gaze you offered Mary can then be offered to the next person she interacts with, love has a rippling effect. If we all remembered how loving and loved we are, can you imagine how the world would shift? Can you imagine the connections possible if we remembered that we are all love?

The concept is simple, but the reality of its impact is profound. Changing your gaze from fault finding to treasure searching allows us to see our fellow man for what they truly are-divine. If you have never experienced this, have no idea what I am talking about, and/or doubt that this idea has any real validity, even better!

I dare you to try it.

Eye gaze with a stranger, your mom, a co-worker. Do it and observe the way your relationship with them–and with yourself–shifts. Do it and find love inside of yourself that you might not have realized even existed. I challenge you. Go out today and find your treasure in another’s eyes. 

The next Eye Gazing Experiment in Miami will be held on Lincoln Road Miami Beach, FL on Thursday June 16th, 2016. To learn more about future events, please visit Sacred Soul Living on Facebook and sign up to stay informed with their events and offerings.