Why do we Have To be Nice to Nature?

” Mommy, why do we have to be nice to nature?” asked my 5 year old Bodee on a sunny hike through a nature reserve. We were on our Sunday family hike and I had curtailed his desire to crush anthills and smash flowers and he didn’t like it. And yet, he really authentically wanted to know why…

” First of all, we don’t HAVE to be. And alot of people aren’t nice to nature. You don’t have to be. It’s a choice. You can be. As your Mommy I ask you to be nice to nature, and you can choose to be. Why do you think we might want to be nice to nature?’

He thought carefully” Because they do to us what we do to it. ”

He was roughly quoting the Golden Rule that we had discussed earlier when a squabble erupted between he and his 2 year old brother.

“Great Bodee!….Ben, why do You think we might choose to be nice to nature?” My 8 year old was listening in on the conversation and I was curious to know what gears were churning in his brain.

“Because we ARE nature.” he said simply and dashed over a dirt slope, off the lead the way on our adventure.

We ARE nature.

With the natural disasters happening in Japan and in so many parts of the globe, with such devastating, unthinkable results, it would behoove us to think about our intricate connection to the nature we are.

We are 78% water. If our water sources are endangered, polluted, hoarded or scarce. WE are.

We are consumers of food, which come from nature. If our food is polluted, sprayed with pesticides, highly processed, sprinkled with preservatives or genetically engineered, WE are too.

We are breathers of air. If we create pollution and it goes into the air, through exhaust pipes, factories chimneys, radiation or reactors, and the result is polluted air, WE are polluted too.

We are creators, doers, we Cause as well…we are producers of pollution, which impact nature and ourselves in ways we cannot always see or measure. Just like not crushing an anthill or leaving a flower for a hummingbird to draw nectar from has an unimaginable impact on nature….regardless of how minute we think it is…nature has unimaginable impact on us.

Just imagine, all of human kind’s existence, if measured in distance, would be the thickness of a human hair compared to the existence of the universe and planets. When you think of it that way, one earthquake begins to look a little like grains of sand for an ant hill to the universe.

Sounds like a blasphemous trivialization, doesn’t it? AND what’s so is that the earth will shift again, and will we make up that God is angry and it’s the end of the world, and be victims and raise our stress levels or will we look to an empowering context for our feelings and meaning in life. We can be nice to ourselves or not.

And nature doesn’t care about NICE by the way. Nature, the universe…doesn’t know what nice is. It just is. The plates move. The water flows. The mud slides. There is no meaning of nice or not nice about it. We humans add the meaning of nice or not.

Yes, the results to us are unthinkable…but the source of the tragedy is not in the plates shifting or the water flowing. The source of the tragedy actually comes from a blessed place. It is a tragedy because we love. We care, we are connected to other human beings, to their dreams, their lives, their children. We are related to what matters to them and those they love.

That’s where a situation becomes a tradgedy…when my child is present to what the ants are up to, he chooses on his own, not to crush the anthill. He chooses not to create a tragedy for them. He is a child with imagination and choice.

Nature however, will continue to ebb and flow, rocks and water do not imagine or think about what they are going to do today. God even, if you believe, I assert created the earth and nature as it is, perfect and whole and complete, and just like human beings, nature does what it does. Only it doesn’t have choice. If we can acknowledge the source of the tragedy of natural disasters is within US, and it comes from a source of LOVE, that we are amazing, then we are empowered and peace and creation can begin.

How can we be nice to nature, and to ourselves, today?

Wishing you and your loved ones peace.

With Love,

Zen Honeycutt
www.zenspurplegarden.com

A Child's Wish

I am reading my three sons a bedtime story, Pinocchio. At the end of the tale Geppetto declares that his wooden puppet of a son is truthful, brave and unselfish. This was the test that the Blue Fairy gave him to pass and so "Poof!" he is freed from the restrictions of the wood and turned into a real boy.

I am reminded of the huge breakthrough my son Ben has caused for himself lately, seeing his part in the bullying that was happening to him at school, creating a deal and having many days since then of making friends, playing and no bullying.
I kiss Ben on the forehead and thank him for being truthful and brave and unselfish without mentioning why...but he knows. He smiles and nods.
Then he says meaningfully "Thank you for being empowering, Mom."
I am stunned. I didn't know he even new that word. My heart swells with wonder.
"What made you think of that word, empowering, Ben?"
"Oh I just thought of it in my head." he says simply.

I am so touched, so fullfilled.
I reply " That's all I want to be as a Mommy, is empowering for you boys."
He says "I want you to be all that you want to be, and to be free."

I can hardly believe what I am hearing, and yet I fully get that Ben is just such a compassionate, mature and wonderful eight year old. This is just exactly what he would say. This is all he wishes for anyone.
I also get that me being free is of concern to him, and that me being free is freedom for him as well. And in that moment, I am free of all my concerns as a parent.
I kiss him again and say, with a lump in my throat, "I am. I am free. Thank you, Ben. I love you. Good night."
I promptly leave the room and cry tears of wonder, telling my husband what an amazing son we have.

As I write this, my mind goes back to when I saw my parents disempowered or unhappy. They were awesome parents, and like any, they didn't always want to do the job they did, or drive the distance, or file the paperwork...and when they were grouchy or upset or resentful about it...my child like perspective was just "Well then why are you doing it? Just do what makes you happy!".
I wanted my parents to be free too. I still do. As their child, nothing saddens me more than to see my parents unhappy about something. I think it affects our core being, our sense of security and safety. Like Ben, all I want is for them to be free in all areas of their life.
As a parent, I get I cannot really do anything about their choices in their lives (beside suggest, remind, and annoy), and I can see that I can really only be happy and free in my life. Perhaps, rather than figuring out what kind of techniques I need to incorporate to be the best parent for my kids, perhaps just being happy and free with myself is all I need to do.

Be all that I want to be and be free. What a gift to give to yourself and those you love.

Zen Honeycutt
www.zenspurplegarden.com

Precious Moments

“This is a precious time.” My Mom would say emphatically, looking lovingly at we three children at Christmas, a moment around the dinner table or during a family hug. Her eyes were shining and open.
We would gather in a family huddle, all five of us, and after seeing “The Dark Crystal”
We would all make a low chanting sort of “Ahhhhhhhh…” a communion of sorts.
You might have to see the Dark Crystal to really get it, but I’ll explain. There is a moment when all the old, scraggly, good guy creatures raise their heavy heads up and chant to connect with each other. No matter where there are, they connect, they are stronger and they are separate, but one.
My mother made a point to let us know daily that we were loved, that our lives are precious and that being together is the best. Saying I love you was second nature to her. We greeted and parted with hugs and “love you’s” and “see ya’s”...we blinked the lights at the door repeatedly as she departed honking the horn on the way down the rocky driveway. We waved and blinked until she was well out of sight. She rubbed our backs and feet, cradled our heads when we cried and watched us, amazed as we played Barbie’s. My mother’s entire being was, and still is, precious, valuable, beautiful and gleaming with love.

My father didn’t say that moments were precious. He didn’t look at us vulnerably or even very "lovingly" usually, he was working…but he did initiate the “Ahhhhhh..” moment many times. He did pat my head before sleep sometimes, his huge rough, calloused hand weighed down on my forehead and eyes, saying. “I’m here, you are safe. Go to sleep.” He did read to us occasionally, his deep vice rumbling as he read with energy and emotion the dramatic bank robberies of “O’Henry”or exciting escape scenes of “The Mouse and the Motorcycle”. Those were precious moments. He didn’t do that often. He often worked until dark. After dinner he worked on crunching numbers for the summer business, stuffing envelopes as mailers to get business or discussed boring adult matters like taxes or student loans with my Mom while she made lunches. He worked a lot. Providing for us. For him to take time to read us a story or pat our heads before sleep was rare and precious.

I think about these precious moments often as a parent. I may not say it the way they said it or do what they did, but there is creation and love in the new ways.
We hold hands before every dinner now, and each take a moment to look each other in the eyes (thank you to my Bulgarian house mates in NYC who taught me the proper way to cheers is to look each person in the eyes as you clink glasses.) That moment of connection acknowledges our separateness and togetherness as a whole. We say our dinner prayer which we borrowed from our son’s preschool five years ago… “God is great, God is good, and we thank you for our food. Amen.” Being grateful together is precious.

Between dinner and bedtime is precious time with Daddy. Sometimes they pig pile, tickle and wrestle on the big bed. Sometimes we talk a family walk in our neighborhood with flashlights in the winter or barefoot in the summer, soaking up the last bit of soft evening sun before bed. Laughing together and being outside in nature together is precious.
I hum a lullabye to them most nights, soft, off key notes soften the darkness and settle the boy energy like a splendid sigh. I make up words thanking God for nature, our home, Nana, Papa, Grandma and Grandad, Aunts and Uncles, cousins, teachers and friends by name. Feeling blessed with abundance of community is precious.
In a recent trip back east to see my family of origin, I had alone time with each person and I was very aware that that moment was a very precious time. Dancing with my niece, clapping for my mother's art, indulging on dessert with my father, celebrating my brother's and fiancées engagement, meeting their friends and being all together, was deeply precious.

In this moment I am present to the preciousness doesn’t come from the doing…the walking, singing, dancing, clapping or the tickling…it comes from who we are being in that moment. Looking into each other’s eyes, being present, being free, being peace, being fully self expressed, being love. It’s what Buddhist monks chant or meditate on for years to obtain, what Christians pray for hours to be, it’s available to all of us in a moment. There is no “someday” I’ll be enlightened, no “thing” to do to get there, no confession or redemption that will save us and THEN have us be blessed or in God’s favor. Many might disagree. There is an order to things, traditional, just the way things ARE they might say. I don’t disagree; I just come from another place. Empowerment now. We all have access to enlightenment and heaven on earth right now, in this moment, if we just get present to how precious it is, exactly the way it is.



Zen Honeycutt
www.zenspurplegarden.com

It’s All His Fault: My Son and a Bully

It’s happening again. I see my eight year old son walking toward me on the side walk with heaviness and resignation that, if I were in the privacy of my own room, could have me weep.
I am present, however, and a Mom, and I am very aware of the brief window of time I have to listen to my son talk about his day before playing, homework and brotherly bickering begin to dilute the reality of his occurrence. Later in the day, what happened at school becomes more and more of a fabrication, a story to tell to entertain, dramatize or garnish pity or attention. Nothing wrong with that…I just want to get to the source of his disempowerment sooner rather than later.

So I kiss his cheek with verocity, rub my hand through his shiny, deep walnut colored hair and let him settle into the car. Then I ask him how his day was. He sighs.
“Not that much good, Mom”
“Oh? What happened?”
“Well John choked me again. And did karate moves on me.”
“Oh Wow." My Mother Tiger neck hairs are stirring, and yet I am careful not to get worked up. He’s here, his neck is not marked, I am listening.
“Yeah, and I know what you are going to say, What did you do? Did you tell him to stop??? But I did Mom and he didn’t stop no matter what I said, he grabbed me around the neck and didn’t stop!!!” His frustration is bubbling over now, is face getting the rush of red anger, his lip beginning to quiver.
The sorrow in my heart drops into my stomach like a rusty anchor from an old ship. Clunk.

I have heard about him getting picked on many times before. We have coached him, written emails to the teacher, showed him the block move. For a moment I make up in my head that this is just the way it is going to be, my son is just going to get picked on, and it’s all the darn bullies’ parents and the bullie's fault…and ok maybe my fault too. Then I remember that as a parent it is my job not to control the circumstances or other people, it’s not my job to protect him from being hurt ever, it is to teach him to be powerful in any situation. I remember that things happen to all of us, people behave in ways that we don’t like…we can’t control that. It’s who we are being that makes the difference and empowers us in our life. In order to empower him, it’s not about me telling him what to do, it’s about getting into his world, his occurrence of it all, that will make a difference for him.
So I ask him, “What else do you want to say about it?”
And he settles down, pours it all out, and I listen to the woe and anguish of being Ben in second grade with John bullying him everyday at recess. When he’s ready I ask him questions, here and there, like “ What happened then? Or What did that feel like for you?”
Eventually we got to a place where he was done talking about it, had gotten it all out, and then I asked him” Well is there anything you would like to do about this?” Usually I would have assumed he was going to do something about it and just said “ So what are you going to do about this?” But my instinct told me he may have resisted that assumption. It’s all about choice in life.
He thought about it.
“ Well maybe…remember when Dad showed me the block move? Are there other moves you could teach me?”
We went home, I used my experience as a little sister to teach Ben some moves to get out of a choke hold and being grabbed from behind. It was fun and he was empowered.

The next day he came home even more disempowered. "The moves didn’t work." he said dejectedly. John just knocked him down. He wasn’t fast enough…he couldn’t figure it out. It was written all over his face. He had a bad day and it was all John's fault. What we resist persists, said the coach in my head. Just be with it.

This time I was determined to listen more and just not try to fix it. He talked about it and I didn’t ask him what he wants to do about it. I just got his feelings...it was like I dropped everything and sat down with him in this yucky mud puddle of sad feelings and just sat there with him. We wallowed together. Eventually, he was done with that and we got up and went about our day with no mentioning of fixing anything.

Today, he walked toward me with a perky stride in his step. Before he is even settled into the car he begins to share, “Mom it was a really, really, really good day. I found out that I was saying bad words to John about his karate moves that he doesn’t like so we made a deal. I won’t say those words and he won’t do karate on me.” He is talking so fast that he stumbles over his words, so excited in his triumph that the words really don’t do the joy justice.
His face is bright and shiny, soft and happy, confident and proud.
My heart is free and surprised and delighted.
“ Wow Ben! High five!” We smack hands happily. “What did you do to make that deal?”
“ Oh, I just talked to him.” It was simple.
“ You did! You listened too. You got his point of view.”
“Yeah, he has his point of view, too.”
“You also took responsibility for your actions too, Ben. That’s awesome. That’s where you got your power to have things go the way you want. Are you proud of yourself?”
“Yeah, I am.”

He may not have ever wanted to be friends with John, and he may never be. But there is so much more possible now for his life, the confidence, power and ability to alter his life, now that he has listened and taken responsibility. There is that old saying that when you point a finger at someone else there are actually three fingers pointing back at yourself. Ben got that. And not because I told him what to do, not because he “should” be friends, but because he was vulnerable and shared his life with me and I gave him the space to just share how it really is for him, without planning it, without judging, assessing or fixing and then he took on his life for himself.

I am glad I am writing this down, because something tells me I might need to remember this now and then, especially in the teen age years.
Thank you Ben for being courageous and creating your life responsibly. And for being generous and sharing your life with me. I learn from you and I love you endlessly.

Zen Honeycutt
www.zenspurplegarden.com

Love and Other Questions

As Valentine's Day nears and annoyance and anxiety in men across the nation rises, whatever our romantic status, we find ourselves thinking about love. What is it and how do we express it? How important is it to express it in a certain way? What, most importantly, are her or his expectations and how am I ever going to meet them?

Today, I greet my 5 1/2 year old son Bodee at Kindergarten pick up with a twinkle in his eye. He holds a brass colored metal box with the words " Nikki" written in a child's handwriting. Too excited for the formalities of hello hugs and kisses he launches immediately into an explanation of this precious box. Nikki gave it to him to hold, and it has a diamond in it, and she's his friend and he gets to have it until ...ummm May, or next Monday...
I am delighted with his energy and I ask if she gave it to him or is he borrowing it. He clarifies that he is borrowing it until Monday, we think, and he shows me the plastic gem stone and note cards in the box like a special treasure. I comment how nice it was of her to lend it to him and he agrees, "Ya", he says, "she's my friend". I ask if he would like to put something in the box when he returns it to her, to give to her, as a Thank you.
"Ya" he says, perking up even more, the gears begin turning, "What could I put in there?" I ask him what he think sand he says "Ummm well, what do girls like Mom?"
It occurs to me that he is perfectly, simply brilliant.
It is in the not knowing that we create anything.
"That's great that you asked Bodee, (I am guilty of generalizing here, feminists, sue me) girls like pink and pretty things usually...you could ask her too... usually they like princesses, flowers, gems and rings and necklaces."
Bodee thinks about the choices carefully. " Let's get her a ring." he chooses.
I have an idea. "Remember that ring that you, or was it Ben...gave me, the pink flower one?"
Bodee says " That was me." reminding me forgivingly.
"That's right! Ok, well, would you like me to give it back to you so you can give it to her?"
He looks at me with serious brown eyes and deep meaning...
"No, that is just for you. You keep it. We can get her one from the machines with those balls in there with 25 cents." He is sure this is what he wants to do
In that moment I get what love is, from my five year old, in a new light.
It is, first of all, excitement, expressing and sharing.
Love is generosity, giving meaningfully, and most importantly, being in the inquiry of what matters to them. The fact that he asked what girls like, that curiosity, will serve him well in the years to come. He could have just decided to put a toy car in the box. But no, he wanted to know what she wants. Beautiful.
If we all just wanted to know what the other wants more...
what a beautiful Valentine's day it would be if we simply asked.

Zen Honeycutt
www.zenspurplegarden.com

Cleaning Out : Communication and Taking a look at Ourselves

We had one of those nights, as a married couple. You know, the kind where as a wife I am stewing, overwhelmed, resentful and sputtering obsecnities under my breath. My husband is confused and has almost completely given up.
We lay on the bed for the first time together all week.
Todd has been staying up late doing research for his book most nights, I was "checked out", either out one night or watching TV or working late the other night.
I stare at the black TV at the other end of the room,shiny dead and heavy. I feel the weight of many days of built up information, thought,concerns,guilt,frustrations and issues boiling inside. As I begin to share them with my husband, I don't make eye contact. I can't look at him and be as angry as I want to be right now, so I indulge my bitterness and continue to stare at the TV.

"I can't stand the mess anymore,"I am spewing..."There is no place to put it all anymore.The knobs on the cabinet over there has been missing for months, there are 8 boxes of papers and toys that I don't know what to do with...the kids are constantly hungry and making messes and I am the only one who does anything about all this, it's all on me and I can't stand it!"

My husband,smart man, just listens. We have done some courses about men and women and he gets I am just "emptying the trash", so to speak. He is holding the basket and catching it all for me. Not easy for him, as his instinctual urge as the man that he is, is to fix it,but a generous and loving act that enables me to get it out, Get it ALL out!
I keep going. I've got more...."The car is rattling, you are always working or writing and ignoring me,the shed is stuffed full, I want a garage, we still haven't opened a bank account for Ben,taught him about money,Ben got picked on at school today..."
I essentially make me husband wrong for everything ( allll his fault!)until his part in it dwindles and it just becomes about some things that are just the way they are...and have nothing to do with him.
Then he speaks. He says he hears me. Gets me. And he promises he will be present.
I breath and look at him.His eyes are promising and loving,asking me for trust.
I do.

The next morning, as he is cooking a beautiful breakfast I start putting dishes away and again cannot close a cabinet drawer. Instead of my thoughts going to blaming him for it like I have been for the past few months,silently, I open and close it again,investigating...and I hear a crunch of paper behind the drawer. I reach my hand back there and find a brown paper lunch bag and pull it out. I reach again and there's more...and again and again...paper bags, ziploc bags, tin foil scraps, pretty soon I have a mountain of garbage in front of me and I am incredulous that it all fit in there...and begin to giggle. I make the connection between me cleaning out the junk in my head last night and what I am doing right now with my kitchen drawer. In both cases I was blaming him, when in actuallity it was all just my own crap! By the 7th brown paper bag I am lauging so hard tears are coming to my eyes. My husband is smiling to himself as he flips the bacon. Yea that's right...his nodding head says. I am just bubbling over with laughter.
In all there were 7 paper bags, 9 ziploc bags, 3 pieces of foil, a fabric rice bag, two large plastic trash bags and an entire plastic tablecloth. Hilarious! Astounding!
All that, like all the rambling, accusations, resentments,stories I have made up about how woe is me...all was cleaned out in a few moments.
I am free. My husband is vindicated. I kiss him sweetly before we eat his gorgeous generous breakfast.

Sometimes the solutions to our upsets are right before us. And always, they have much more to do with us than them.
Just share,listen, look and then laughter will come.

Zen Honeycutt
www.zenspurplegarden.com

P.S. I wrote this a week or two ago. Since then all of the issues mentioned here, and then some have been or are being completely handled. I created trust and love for my husband and he created taking care of us. And he has. Thank You Todd.

New Year No Hope

There have probably been a couple hundred thousand blogs posted about a bright new year, new resolutions and peace, joy and hope in the coming year.
Not this one.

Yes I have new resolutions, but straight up, HOPE has nothing to do with any of them.
I am done with hope. And I don't mean that in a cynical way, seriously.
I am just complete with ever hoping ....
I see HOPE ...in the context of a breathy sigh and raising of the eyebrows, "Well this year we hope it's going to be different." or "I hope I can finally do that this year, God willing, We'll see..."
I am DONE with that.

Hope, as I see it now, is for people who are not yet willing to take responsibility for their lives. Yes, God has willed. God, life, the universe... has willed that we have choice. God does not put before you anything that you can't handle, some say, so if it's before you, saying that we hope that something about our situation is going to change or improve is just a cop out. It's just waiting for someone else to do something about it...or for God. Well if you are there and you see God as your guide, you are there because God put you there and God sees you are ready to take ACTION.

Hope is for people who are not seeing their own power. We are all infinitely powerful. We are all cut from the same cloth as the Dali Lama, Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King. All of us. We all have the infinite ability to alter any situation on a whim. If we do not like the relationship we have with a teacher, friend or family member...to hope that it will be different someday is simply not being present to the power we each have to take responsibility and BE The ONE to take action to have it be different. What kind of world would we be living in now if Martin Luther King had "Hoped" things would change someday?
He was made of no different DNA than you or me. Maybe we don't all choose to be leaders for civil rights. Maybe we don't choose to be leaders for human, animal or environmental rights...maybe not even for school or church...that's ok... but what about being a leader in our own lives?

I saw this recently when I looked at the down and dirty of a few relationships where I had complaints about a few people. I saw how judgmental I was being about these people being judgmental...how hypocritical and yucky is that?
I was avoiding responsibility for the relationships by writing them off as judgmental and so that was that. I secretly hoped that they will learn to like me someday by if they don't, oh well!

Nope. DONE with that.
No more hope. All there is is seeing what is missing, what actions I can take and to look at who I am being around those relationships. Who am I being that I experience that they don't like me? What's my part?
I've been human, being judgmental and with holding.
That's not what I am committed to. I am committed to being fully self expressed, grateful and loving.
I am committed to being Creative, Courageous and FUN.
That takes ACTION, not hope.It starts with me.
So I look forward to writing again about conversations that transform those relationships, about authentic freedom, joy and fun.
That is a NEW year that I truly look forward to CAUSING.
I don't hope you have a Happy New Year.
I challenge you to cause one.

With Love
Zen Honeycutt
www.zenspurplegarden.com