All Comments By

Now living near the ocean, i hear a completely different silence than during my childhood in the mountains. At the beach, the silence is teeming with activity. There’s the ever so slight pause at the crest and the trough of the crashing waves, that momentary pause, like at the top and bottom of our breath. And that space is often filled by the sound of the waves further out, building the amplitude for their turn to crash. As well as the birds taking advantage of the goodness of the crashing waves. There is so much depth of sound in what I first perceive as silence.

All resources we ever could need are found in the breath. ALL. Yes, even time, money, food...

This author misidentifies hope. In her description of hope, I hear expectation, attachment, that « I am the answer » (or a version of that). For me, that’s desire. And desire comes from my ego self, which is why it’s attached and full of expectation. My hope is not these things. The hope I’m filled with is light, inviting, open, and most importantly unattached. It’s fueled my possibility, of which none comes from me. It comes through me and I feel blessed to be the vessel. And yes; there can be fear there as my lower self struggles to see myself in that light and possibility.

Becoming the ocean means to surrender, to release the river banks that have held me confined and restricted. The river banks that have tried to define me and control me. I finally break free and surrender into the wholeness of my being, in unison with the complete truth.

Yesterday, I got back from Thailand, after my 3-month Peace Fellowship was cut short by the US's "do not travel" requirement to return to the US or stay for an unforeseen amount of time where ever we'd be allowed to stay. A day into my self-imposed self-quarantine (as Thailand is actually significantly safer than the US right now), I feel the ocean air coming through the windows and realize that there's a lot more cleaning to be done than simply unpacking the suitcases. Tiny moments - as small as not remembering which cupboard holds the tea - remind me of the distance that's been carved in me since I was last in this "home." Experiences change us but it's only upon the return that we realize just how much has shifted and transformed. All this transformation can be squashed by a non-appreciation of it. I sit in the reflection, realization, exploration and awe of it all.

This is happening FOR us, not to us. In every challenge and supposed destruction, there is an opportunity for construction. The fallen leaves turn into compost. The undoing of past beliefs of separation creates the space for wholesome beliefs of oneness. And in this experience as well, there is space for contemplation, creation, transformation and renewal. We each have the opportunity - and arguably the responsibility - of making the choice of our own personal perspective. And each individual choice creates a collective transformation. All thanks to this sacred time.

Thank you George for your acknowledgement and kind words. I'll admit, the first time I found myself sending love and compassion to the people who likely murdered my cousin (we'll likely never have a definitive answer as is often the case in these types of cases), I surprised myself. At first, it was not a conscious act; it was a "cri du coeur" as we say in French, meaning a passionate unfiltered outcry. It's since become an automatic response to thinking of my cousin. I hope you notice the "cris du coeur" that are your heart's expression of love and compassion. Happy day!

Ha! Another thought popped in. When my cousin was murdered a few years ago, within 36 hours, I had moved from disbelief all the way to acceptance (with the loving companionate support of maximum-security prison residents, by the way). Within 36 hours, I found myself sending love and compassion to these people who murdered, whom we'll likely never know their identity. And this continues: every time I think of my cousin, I send these folks love. I know this is the fastest most direct way I can heal the cycle. It won't bring my cousin back but it can prevent it from happening again. This is loving your "enemy" (though I don't see them as such).

Wow... Troy captures the mission of Brilliance Inside: to heal society's cycle of violence. And it started the same place he did: in prison. I bring love's healing ways every day into prison and I've seen its impact: people that society calls monsters -some who have been in the news -becoming ferocious advocates of change by love. And I'm blessedto be expanding the ripple effect of this transformative approach in Thailand prison system now. Thank you for amplifying the voices of the unheard so that we can learn from their courageous journeys to healing.