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Healing, Honesty, Mind

Why we need to talk about rape culture

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October 11, 2016

- Healing, Honesty, Mind

#notokay #notokay #notokay Thank you, Donald Trump. No, really… thank you. If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t be such a massive conversation around rape culture happening not just nationally, but globally. Thank you for being your authentic, complicated, problematic, violent, aggressive, despicable self in the public arena. Thank you for inadvertently pulling an ongoing conversation about rape culture into the limelight along with you, and giving it the attention it deserves. Also, thank you Kelly Oxford, among others on social media who invited women (and men! and transgendered people! and ALL PEOPLE!) to share their assault stories and instigated the #notokay movement. Politics aside; The questionable future of the US aside (though it’s hard to ignore)… There is something more important going on here. A nation is waking up. An entire body of people are being forced to realize that things are not okay. That not only do we silently accept and abide by rape culture daily, but that there are countless survivors who have been forced into silence. Why are so many silent? Because, rape culture.  Because we feel alone. Because we have been so consumed by the culture that surrounds us that we convince ourselves that our assault wasn’t a big deal. Because that very same culture tells us that rape and assault are something to be ashamed of. Because it’s easier to grin and bear it than it is to believe that our rights will be protected. Because petty criminals go to prison longer than rapists. Because we suppress it in order to survive. Because when we tell our story, even to a close friend or family member, we run the risk of being victim shamed or blamed. Because when that stranger calls us “babe” or worse, physically, aggressively, sexually approaches us… we freeze. Because when we organize an anti-rape culture rally, we are threatened by “male extremists.” Because our reality is that we may never feel safe in this life.  Although the comments made by Trump, and the social media attention that has followed can be extraordinarily triggering… we as a People needed to be triggered. And, as difficult as it is to own your experience as a survivor of sexual assault, more survivors need to speak up. This is not an occasional violation, it is a regular atrocity.  Two years ago, my memory was triggered by a powerful training experience, which inspired me to publish a piece of writing in which I owned up to an incident that occurred when I was 19-years-old (link here). At the time that I was writing this piece, I believed the rape referenced was my only repressed sexual assault. Over time, with support and with continued self-work, I have realized that my sexual trauma runs much deeper. The earliest sexual assault I can recall today occurred in 7th grade, at 12-years-old. A boy sat next to me in science class during a movie screening and put his hand in my pants and up my shirt. When class ended, I rushed over to a friend and told her what happened and she didn’t believe me, or maybe she just laughed it off. Unfortunately, the boy in question had the same class as me immediately after, and during that class he sat next to me again and continued to touch me. Why did this 12-year-old boy think it was okay to behave this way? Who taught him to do these things? And, equally as important… Why did no one teach me what to do if such an assault were to happen to me? Who to turn to? How to defend myself? We need to talk about rape culture in order to change it. We need to own up to our shared identity as survivors; we need to share our personal experiences, in order to reduce the stigma associated with sexual assault.  We need to teach our children about rape culture earlier in life (along with race relations, sexuality, and social sustainability… to name just a few). We should be educating our children far earlier about sexual assault and how to address it. We need to be talking about rape culture. Period. We need to stay angry. We need to stay inspired. We need to wake up and do something. Speak up. Act. Vote Smart. Respect. Compassion. Love. Don’t let this era be our last proud one as Americans, and as global citizens. You can help it get better from here, don’t sit back and allow it to get worse.
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Toeing a Critical Line

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September 1, 2016

- Honesty, Intention, Mind, Miscellaneous

As the the child of an academic, and a student of the liberal arts, I hold in high esteem the ability to think critically… And, (as a Being doing my very best to appreciate this life incarnate) I also desperately try to avoid harsh, unjust, unnecessary, pessimistic criticism of the world of around me. Where is the line between critical thinking and plain old criticism, and how do we toe it gracefully? At the very core of critical thought, there is a need to find fault, and a need to tap into negativity. If we are to analyze a work of art, a scientific study, or a political policy, we need to be able to see both the good and the bad. In my childhood home, and in the classrooms I have been privileged to study in, I was praised for criticism. I was praised for looking at the world presented before me and finding its faults. I was praised for being able to see these faults, mull them over, explain them in depth, focus on them, and (only sometimes) offer a solution to them. All the while, I was also being conditioned to see the world through a particular lens, with a particular set of biases. This complex relationship to critical thought made me believe that there was always a right and wrong answer; that critical thinking is objective. Wrong (ha! there I go again). We criticize based on what we perceive. Perception is subjective. I don’t know about others, but I am not convinced that this very important point was made clear to me during my days as a university student: critical thinking is founded on subjectivity. The practice of critical thinking, of criticism, once came with rewards; now, it comes with struggle. Perhaps others can relate to this experience. I look back, and think about where this landed me. On one hand, I am well educated, employed, able, and articulate. On the other hand, I feel stuck in a rushing flood of negativity, against which I am tirelessly swimming upstream. How do I hold true to my identity on both sides? How do I continue to challenge my environment, to be an agent of change – for certainly we have to think critically in order to have the necessary direction to enact change – and yet, still remain optimistic, positive, and Light?  How to survive? I need my critical thinking skills to avoid falling victim to the fear and dis-ease of the modern world. I also need an optimistic spirit, an ability to see the best, not the worst, in order to remain sane… even happy. Criticism, like all negativity, has its roots in Fear. We decide that something is wrong, that it is faulty, because somewhere deep down we fear what our reality would be if it were true. 2+2 = 22?! Wrong! If that were true the very Earth would crumble beneath my feet! (And this doesn’t mean that 2+2 does, in fact, equal 22, only that we should question why we are so quick to say it is untrue.) Only through the lens of Love can we make trustworthy judgements. Self-awareness is my only solution, as it often is. I must continue to observe my thoughts, my emotions, my involvement, and my energy. I am not alone in this. I need to ask for support from friends, for them to be a sounding board without pushing me deeper into the strong current of negativity. Only through self-awareness might I have a chance to understand when I am purpose-fully using critical thought, and when I am being unjustly critical.
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Review of Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

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July 21, 2016

- Honesty, Mind, Miscellaneous, Practice

I am going to come right out and say it… I did not read Eat Pray Love. I can’t tell you why exactly, but something about Elizabeth Gilbert’s popular book, its movie adaptation, and the hype around it all really rubbed me the wrong way. I do eat, pray, and love. I also read books, but I couldn’t get myself to pick that one up. I don’t know if it was the colorful cover (it probably was), or the key word “fear” in the subtitle, but something caused me to buy her new book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. I bought the hardcover, in fact. As soon as I started to read it, I was struck by the self-deprecating thought, “Shit. Elizabeth Gilbert is writing about fear much more articulately than I ever will. I should probably stop writing all together.” I was also struck by the thought, “Shit. I was supposed to write this book, not her! It should have been me!” Funny, not just because both of these lines of thinking are absurd, but also because, fast-forward a few page turns, and Gilbert spoke directly to those thoughts. Damn. “Okay, I guess I will keep reading then,” I told myself. …And then I proceeded to put the book down for two months, with a mark at page 91. Perhaps not so coincidentally, I also didn’t publish any of my own writing in those two months. I guess I should say thank you, Elizabeth Gilbert, for the massive blow to my ego. You broke me down, but when I picked up the book again this week, you managed to build me back up. I know no one can see me, so I want you to know that I am shaking my fist aggressively and looking skyward, thinking to myself, “damn this league of female truth-teller/self-help-y writers which I have found myself a part of!” In order to set a framework for her book on creative living and fear, Gilbert makes a valiant attempt to convince all readers that they are creative, whether or not they are an artist by trade. This is something I too believe, so I didn’t take too much convincing, and I have to wonder if anyone who selects this book for themselves would take much convincing. Still, she does so beautifully:
So this, I believe, is the central question upon which all creative living hinges: Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you? … The hunt to uncover those jewels – that’s creative living. The courage to go on that hunt in the first place – that’s what separates a mundane existence from a more enchanted one.
What struck me the most about this book was Gilbert’s description of the relationship between creativity and fear. Because I consider myself a creative, and my partner considers himself one as well, we often find ourselves revisiting the same ideas as we discuss art. The idea that good art comes from dark places/human lives are complicated and art should be a reflection of that/you need to make yourself so, so, so vulnerable as an artist. Rarely, though do we directly discuss the relationship between fear and creativity, which is a little bit funny to me, considering my obsession with fear. Gilbert describes clearly the difference between bravery and fearlessness, “Bravery means doing something scary. Fearlessness means not even understanding what the word scary means.” The proverbial ‘they’ say that people who take (physical) risks typically only get hurt in one of two cases: 1) they are so scared that they are paralyzed by fear, or 2) they are so fearless that they forget to consider risk. Both are irrational states of being. So, we need the middle ground – bravery – in order to intelligently take risks. Fear is necessary in order to create. “In fact,” Gilbert says, “it seems to me that my fear and my creativity are basically conjoined twins – as evidenced by the fact that creativity cannot take a single step forward without fear marching right alongside it.” When embarking on a creative endeavor, Elizabeth Gilbert speaks to her fear:
Dearest Fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that you take your job seriously. Apparently your job is to induce complete panic whenever I am about to do something interesting – and, may I say, you are superb at your job. So by all means, keep doing your job, if you feel you must. But I will also be doing my job on this road trip, which is to work hard and stay focused. And Creativity will be doing its job, which is to remain stimulating and inspiring. There’s plenty of room in this vehicle for all of us, so make yourself at home, but understand this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making and decisions along the way. I recognize and respect that you are part of this family, and so I will never exclude you from our activities, but still – your suggestions will never be followed. You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote. You’re not allowed to touch the roadmaps; you’re not allowed to suggest detours; you’re not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you’re not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive.
I absolutely love this analogy, and will add it to my toolbox for living Love Over Fear. I highly recommend reading Big Magic, and would love to discuss with anyone who has. Who knows, maybe I’ll even pick up a copy of Eat Pray Love now… just maybe.    
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When Did I Become A Woman?

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February 14, 2016

- Healing, Honesty, Loving Kindness, Mind, Miscellaneous

When did I become a Woman? It’s not that today was the first time I saw these curves staring back at me, naked in the mirror. But today was the first time I loved them.   …Even the belt of softness around my hips. …Even the hole above my belly button where a piercing used to adorn. …Even the dimples on my thighs.   And I asked…   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t the first time I bled. Or had sex. Or made love. But, the first time I lucidly dreamt of my own child suckling at my breast.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I was raped. Or harassed. Or heartbroken. Or hurt. But, when I was willing to admit I had been victimized.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I fell in love with a man or a woman. But, when I had the gall to own my fluid sexuality.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I put on a dress. Or a bra. Or had a manicure. But, when I felt beautifully human.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I learned about feminism in school. Or history. Or was rallied by my friends. But, when I realized on my own as I sat reading current events just how much the movement meant to me.   When did I become a Woman? When I realized I was graced by power not weakness. When I chose to be a Woman.    
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Reframing: Fact & Truth.

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November 29, 2015

- Honesty, Mind

I am an over-thinker who surrounds myself with other over-thinkers. My best friends and I can play devil’s advocate for hours. We frame and reframe whatever subject is at hand until we’ve turned over every inch of it twice. Particularly when it comes to the tough stuff, the things that challenge us, we find ways to twist and reevaluate our perceptions until there is some feeling of mental clarity and direction. Recently, I had a conversation with a fellow over-thinker about Fact and Truth.

Merriam-Webster:

Fact 

:something that truly exists or happens : something that has actual existence

: a true piece of information

Truth

the truth : the real facts about something : the things that are true

: the quality or state of being true

: a statement or idea that is true or accepted as true

The conversation began with my friend challenging the validity of “new-agey” “healing” practices like reiki, crystal healing, and the likes. As someone who believes a little bit of everything, my response was, “if it can’t hurt, and it might help, then why not try? Why not try if the practitioner believes in it?” I continued by expressing my distrust for what science posits as Fact… particularly when it comes to personal health. Without getting too heated about it, here’s a simple example: Eggs are good for you. Eggs are bad for you. Only eat the egg white. Eggs are good for you. Eggs are bad for you.  We can give antibiotics to the chickens and get better eggs. Don’t eat eggs from chickens treated with antibiotics. Eggs are good for you. Eggs are bad for you. Free-range eggs are healthier for you. Free-range eggs aren’t any healthier. Free-range eggs are better for the animals. Free-range doesn’t really give the animals “free range.”  Free-range eggs are worse for the environment. Eggs are good for you. Eggs are bad for you. Use applesauce instead of egg when you are baking. Vata Dosha should eat eggs. Flax egg is a good vegan egg substitute. Eggs are good for you. Eggs are bad for you. Eggs are good for you. Eggs are bad for you. Annnnnyyyyways… Fact. People – your neighbor, the media, your doctor, your nutritionist, your Ayurvedic specialist – some more knowledgable than others, tell us any of the above as Fact. “Well…. I still think there are some things that are just Fact,” my friend said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  Maybe there are, but maybe we have bastardized the meaning of Fact. If a Fact is something we are offered by any of the above specialists, then Fact is biased. Fact is experiential. Fact is personal. Fact is somewhere between belief and Truth. Truth. Truth, then, is objective. Truth is unbiased. Often, Truth isn’t spoken. It isn’t over-thought. People don’t write click-bait articles about Truth (although they may write philosophical dissertations). It is just known. Truth applies to every experience. Or… maybe I’m just over-thinking this. 
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BestSelf, Mind, Practice, Yoga

5 things Yoga has taught me about MySelf

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November 12, 2015

- BestSelf, Mind, Practice, Yoga

In the classes I teach during the month of November, I am asking my students to focus their intentions on gratitude. Each week, we approach gratitude from a slightly different angle. This week, I ask students to identify one quality about themselves for which they feel grateful. I ask them to share and reaffirm that quality using the identifier “I am ________.” I have been so inspired by my students answers. By how they own up to their most awesome qualities. By their Self-Love, Self-Compassion, and Self-Gratitude. It got me thinking about myself and my Yoga Practice, and how the practice has made me realize some really great things about MySelf.

1. I am strong.

You would think that growing up an athlete and an academic I would have always felt strong in body and mind. Not the case. I often felt weak. Not strong enough. Not smart enough. Not resilient enough. Like I wouldn’t make it… through the day, the workout, the race, the season, the essay, the course, the school year… you name it, I doubted my strength.  Yoga gave me the time and space to realize just how strong I am, and how strong I have been to endure. There is no right answer in a yoga posture, and there is no ideal form. There is only an opportunity to test your edge physically and mentally, and gain strength in a practice that is all your own.

2. I am enough. 

See above: “Not strong enough. Not smart enough. Not resilient enough.” I get hung up on not being enough. Enough. The Yoga Sutras ask us to practice Santosa – Contentment, or as I like to think of it, Enough-ness. I am that. I am beautiful enough. talented enough. compassionate enough. funny enough. artistic enough. unique enough. thin enough. loved enough. loving enough. happy enough. independent enough. content enough.

3. I am a good listener. 

I wasn’t always. Yoga made me slow down. It made me start listening to MySelf – the breath, the body, the mood, the thoughts. One day, amidst my practice, I found myself wondering how I could have not been hearing MySelf for so long. If I hadn’t truly been hearing my own self, had I really been listening to anyone else, either? I decided to give listening a try.  I realized just how much I could learn if I listened to others. And I started listening. If you don’t already, start really listening to people when they talk (and even when they’re silent), and your world will change.

4. I am a believer. 

I am not sure what God is. I am not sure what stories are true. I just know that I believe in something, and that I began to find that something on my yoga mat. And since, I have recognized discrete divine moments throughout my life’s experiences. Grace. Divinity. Light. Love.

5. I am okay with being vulnerable.

Yoga made me willing to accept who I am. MySelf. MyBestSelf and MyNotBestSelf. Once I accepted myself, I was willing to share myself… Stories from my past. Thoughts from my present. Wishes for my future. The way I see it, my purpose is to connect to others, and I can’t do that without being vulnerable. I grow more comfortable and grounded in my own vulnerability each day.   What has your yoga practice taught you about yourself? Or, which of your qualities are you most grateful for? 
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Vulnerability – the Emotional Vampire

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August 30, 2015

- Intention, Loving Kindness, Mind, Practice, Soul

I have been feeling extremely vulnerable lately. Adjusting to the unforeseen change in my plans has not been easy – and I knew it wouldn’t be. What I didn’t realize was that in order to get my life settled once again, I would be putting myself in a place of extreme vulnerability. In order to meet basic needs – work, housing, food, community – I must be vulnerable. Making new connections, asking for help, applying for jobs… all come at the risk of judgement and rejection. I am learning that vulnerability is an emotional vampire. When I choose to make myself vulnerable, I am choosing to surrender most of my emotional energy and intelligence to those moments of vulnerability. So, in reaching out to new people in an attempt to make the connections that will help me feel settled in this chapter of my life, I am surrendering much of what I usually have in store to give to others. I have seen the effects of this in my personal relationships. After a day (or many days) of making new connections through emails, phone calls, and meetings, I am tired, disinterested, irritable, and I just don’t have a lot left to give to the people I love. I need their support more than ever, and I’m too exhausted to keep open myself to it. I’ve noticed this becoming a problem. Now what do I do about it? How do I budget my vulnerability? I will start by being more conscious of it. Limit the amount of time and energy I give to putting myself out there each day. Increase the amount of time and energy I give to myself each day. And – fingers crossed – in doing so, I will have more love and openness to share with those that matter most to me. Give less of myself, in order to give more of myself. I love Danielle LaPorte, and am a big fan of her #truthbomb cards. They’re kind of like Tarot cards, but way easier to understand. Still, there is room for interpretation. Yesterday I pulled the card “Do the fucking work.” How fitting. I’m struggling to settle in, feeling vulnerable, exposed, and like all my own stuff is coming to the surface of my relationships. All the stuff that it is my work to sort through. Do the work. The work. The work doesn’t mean “work” insofar as an exchange of time and effort for money. The work is precisely what you don’t want to do. The work is exactly what you need to do, for the sake of your very core Being. The work is growth. The work is hard. The work means moments of intense pain in exchange for extreme freedom. Do. The. Fucking. Work. Do the work, Jenna. Be your BestSelf. That’s why you’re here, right? Intention is everything. I intend to do the work. Here’s to facing vulnerability and not shutting down emotionally. It will all be settled soon. If vulnerability is a vampire, what do you think its garlic is? Maybe I’ll stock up on some of that, too. (photo credit: Danielle LaPorte)
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A Balancing Act – Forgiveness and Ego

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July 7, 2015

- Healing, Intention, Loving Kindness, Mind

There is a very fine balance between Forgiveness and Ego. The fact that we view Forgiveness as something that we ‘grant’, we ‘bestow’, we ‘give’… is enough to prove how closely it is connected to Ego. It isn’t often that I hold a grudge, but recently I found myself harboring resentment, and I realized my own Ego was the source of struggle. Ego tells us that we are better than, that we deserve better, and that we are right. Ego never plays devil’s advocate, never tries to see the other side, and never tries to let go. Our Ego is what prevents us from accepting an apology. It’s that voice whispering in the back of your mind that tells you someone’s apology wasn’t quite right. Maybe their apology showed that they don’t truly understand what they did to hurt you, and Ego says that’s just not good enough. Can you blame Ego? Ego just doesn’t want us to hurt. Forgiveness accepts hurt, lives with it, and moves on. That’s not to say that Forgiveness is a one and done deal. You can’t just say, “I forgive you,” and step back to watch all of the resentment and hurt magically fizzle away. Forgiveness is a conscious decision to look into the face of the one who hurt you, and see the love that is there, even especially in the moments when what they did creeps back into your heart and mind. It’s a decision to put Ego on the backburner, to step down from the idea that you deserve better. Because at the end of the day, whomever hurt you was doing the best they could. Not only in the moment that they wronged you, but also in the moment that they tried to apologize for it. And yes, maybe their best was shitty… but in that moment, it was their best. We can’t reasonably ask anyone for more than their best. However, the knowledge that people are doing their best in any given moment can quickly become an excuse for others. Forgiveness is not always deserved. Sometimes the other person’s best is just not good enough. Sometimes, Ego is right – you do deserve better, and you were right. You should protect yourself and move on in life without whoever caused you hurt. Ego serves a very important purpose. All I am suggesting is that when holding a grudge, we should consider playing devil’s advocate, even if only for a moment, and teeter on that tightrope between Ego and Forgiveness. Sometimes you will find that Ego is right, and your grudge will stand. Other times, you will find it in you to put a damper on your own Ego, and make the conscious choice to continuously grant Forgiveness. Forgiveness makes us vulnerable – and it may make us wobble – but when it is deserved, Forgiveness has the power to set things back in balance.
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Grace Overdue

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June 17, 2015

- Intention, Loving Kindness, Mind, Soul

I wasn’t raised with religion. My father is a professor at a Catholic university, and has worked there my entire life. I can remember when I was growing up, my dad had a Darwin fish bumper sticker on his car, and it was torn off one day while he was parked in the lot at work. That same university is where I completed my undergraduate education. Catholic Theology was a required part of the core curriculum. It is also one of the only courses I have ever gotten a “C” in. I will be the first to admit, I went into that class with a baaaaad attitude. Not because I didn’t respect the Catholic faith, or any Faith for that matter, but because I didn’t have any faith of my own. Well, that, and because most of my classmates had either gone to Catholic school or CCD growing up and inherently knew the answers to test questions. I’m usually one of the annoying kids in the front row of class who knows every answer, but in this class, I made an effort to hide. I can remember one assignment in particular that really ticked me off. At the end of class, our professor gave us the prompt for a one-page paper: What is Grace? “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I muttered out of the side of my mouth to the girl sitting one row over. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. For the next several days, I complained about this assignment to anyone who would listen. My friends, my coworkers, my family… I think I even said something to my academic advisor. I thought I was ticked off because there was a specific (Catholic) pointed response that I was expected to have memorized. And maybe there was, I can’t say for sure, because I know whatever I turned in received a big fat zero. But really, I was ticked off because I didn’t know the answer. I didn’t know the answer, because I was too blind to see it. The thought of even trying to find an answer scared me shitless. I wish that I could take that course over again, if only to redo that assignment. I’m still not Catholic. But, I do know Grace. I have seen it. I have seen Grace in my own life; my own blessings. I have seen Grace in the Divine beings around me. Grace is the luck that got me this far in life. Grace is what saved me from living in fear. Conscious living is filled with Grace. Meaningful relationships are filled with Grace. My yoga practice is Grace expressed. Spending time outdoors is Grace experienced. SO many moments in my life have been blessed; have been gracious. And Grace doesn’t care that this assignment is overdue. Grace is loving, no matter what.
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“Maybe you care too much…”

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June 15, 2015

- Intention, Mind, Practice

There are the stories we tell ourselves, and the stories we are told. Sometimes the line gets blurred and you aren’t even sure of the origin of the story. In any case, stories are open to interpretation. One of the stories buzzing around in my head is entitled, I Care Too Much. Now, this story has definitely been suggested to me on many occasions. In school, in relationships, at work, in casual conversation… Let’s just call these episodes of the same story. All of these episodes have a similar structure: I invest myself in something, hit a wall, get frustrated, and someone offers up, “Maybe you just care too much, Jenna.” Dear Friends, Family, and Coworkers…. That’s not exactly the most helpful piece of advice. Care is consideration paid to something that is important. What is important, of course, is relative. I decide what is important to me, and then I pay careful consideration to it. And to me, caring is black and white. You either care, or you are apathetic. There is no spectrum of gray from “barely care” to “pretty much care.” You are either all in or all out. Therefore, in my world, it is impossible to care too much. If someone suggests I care too much, maybe they just value things differently. What is important to me might not be important to them. In some episodes of this story, that might be the case. Other times, I am willing to bet that there is some truth to the I Care Too Much story. However, I would prefer to express that truth in more precise words. I think that often when I seemingly “care too much,” I am Attached to an Expectation. The next time I hear the words, “Maybe you just care too much,” I am not going to allow myself to be upset by them. Instead, I am going to take a step back and ask myself whether that sentiment may have been inspired by an unrealistic attachment or expectation. Do I really care too much about that project at work? Do I really care too much about this person or relationship? Do I really care too much about sustainable agriculture/labeling GMOs/deforestation (or whatever else I decide to go on a rant about while I’m having dinner with friends)? Or, am I just attached to an unrealistic, unfair, or outlandish expectation for that project/person/issue? If so, I can be conscious of that. I can change that. I can’t change what I care about. I just care. Caring is cool. Maybe I care too much Maybe I need to let go of attachment. Maybe I need to let go of expectation. Maybe I need to stop being afraid to let go. But, I won’t stop caring. I won’t stop loving.
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