Strangely Familiar

     Visiting my sister’s house is always a dive into another world. A world where time is not a rule but a guideline, where busyness is sometimes there, but comes with equal measures of peace and silliness. This weekend, staying there, I spent much needed time outside under trees, birds, and butterflies. I walked with my dad, spent time playing with my niece and nephew, and took the time to read and reflect that I had not done for some time. While reading Mindful magazine, I was particularly struck by an article on being addicted to being busy. And there I was- reflected right there in those words. “The busier we keep ourselves, the more we avoid being confronted with questions of life and death… We keep a safe and comfortable distance to the issues that are sometimes hard to look at…” And most importantly, the conclusion: “Busyness is a choice. We may have deadlines, projects, and activities, but we have the freedom to choose whether we become action addicts and busy-lazy, or jus

Friends, I've had this poem brewing in my mind for a while, and finally put it onto paper. I am constantly reminded of Bishop Desmond Tutu's famous quote, and one of my favorites: "My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together." As a society, we can only progress so far when some of compatriots are kept so far behind. I don't believe we're rich if 48.1 million citizens live in food-insecure households. I don't believe we're educated if 14% of the American adult population is illiterate. I don't believe we're safe if an average of 86 individuals die each day from gun violence, and mass murders are sprinkled in our news coverage like a sick salt. Mostly, though, I focus on the systematic racism and oppression that is still perpetuated in so many invisible and visible ways in our society. I can't breathe thinking about all these horrific murders. I can't breathe thinking about how my skin color makes me less saf