A Response to the Tragic Incident in Aurora

The devastation in Aurora is not only an opportunity to consider and discuss legislation related to mental health and gun control, but it is also a chance to hold up a mirror. Who sends us off the deep end? Parents? The boss? Who triggers us so that we become screaming lunatics? Our children? Who provokes uncontrollable crying or road rage? Stupid drivers? Well maybe. But the fact is, we want to be heard but we end up pushing people we love away. We are "nice" until we're not and we act surprised. It took me years to get in touch with my anger and then it was a process to become genuine yet conscious of my actions. My kids will vouch for the fact that I used to get triggered big time. Now, while I have other challenges that inspire... nudge... no shove me to evolve, being mean and exploding into angry outbursts are not as much of a problem for me. I will share the steps to a practice of the heart.

There is a way to feel anger, to be our animal selves, to be charged without reacting.

Life in the Mystical Middle

There are no accidents. When we get out of our way and open to the possibilities outside of ourselves, the universe responds. Sometimes we miss the signs, but eyes wide open we will be led.

One of my favorite coincidences was the time in graduate school that I was required to choose a favorite author and a topic and speak to it for 30 minutes. I am a huge fan of the magical realism of Isabel Allende (Eva Luna and The House of Spirits - also a great movie by the way), probably because my life has been so blessed with synchronicity - full of wonder, occasionally strange and seemingly impossible. I decided to address the differences between fantasy, surrealism and magical realism.

I was walking down the hall at University of Colorado when I ran into a classmate. She asked me how I was doing and I told her about my report due the following day. “Isabel Allende is speaking at the Tattered Cover in Denver tonight!” she informed me. I couldn’t believe my luck! I had no idea!

When I arrived at the renowned bookstore, people were already pouring outside of the crowded room. I don’t know why but I impulsively plowed a path through the mass. Stepping over people: Excuse me. Oh sorry! I managed enter the room, stopped at the end of the open aisle. At that exact moment an elderly woman on the aisle of the 3^rd row turned and motioned to me with her index finger to approach her.