“The Whole World is One Family”*

I wrote this blog last December. Here we are, one year later.

This topic, if not clearer, is strong and alive in my heart.

~~~

It feels wrong to complain about the cold

From the privilege of my warm house.

 

The intense cold certainly has made my life harder—

Getting out of the house,

Wrapping the seat belt around my bulky body,

Walking the dog down the snowy, potentially slippery road.

 

Physically managing the cold,

It’s difficult for me.

 

Yet I have a house to hold me.

I have a car to carry me.

 

How many people in Berkshire County

In this moment,

Have neither?

 

Too many.

 

One would be

Too many.

~~~

Swami Kripalu taught,

The whole world is

One Family.

 

We are connected.

We are one heartbeat,

Divided into our trillion

Different bodies.

 

We are one breath,

Expressed through

Each of us.

 

Individually and collectively,

We dance together.

 

So similarly,

Dr. King said:

 

“Whatever affects one directly,

Affects all indirectly.”**.

 

We know this.

We believe this.

 

I know this.

I believe this.

 

Is the question—

How do we practice this?

 

How do we practice this now, in these strange days,

These days that are getting stranger?

~~~

How do we respond?

How do we widen our communities of healing?

How do we—help each other?

Speaking only for me—

 

First, I must

Feel my feelings.

To prematurely transcend them

Is part of the problem,

Not the solution.

 

I must acknowledge

My annoyance at the howling wind,

My discomfort trying to

Squash my over-clothed body

Behind the wheel of my car.

 

The way out of the feelings

Is through

The feelings.

 

Secondly,

I must find my way to gratitude,

Which connects me to a Greater Consciousness.

Gratitude is the doorknob.

It opens the field, the possibilities of new behavior.

 

Then—I practice,

Then I take simple

Tiny actions.

 

As the cultural/political/humanitarian issues seem

To balloon

Bigger and bigger,

My attending to the tiny things

Matters.

 

They are my contribution to change.

• Making eye contact with the register person.
• Saying hello to people I encounter.
• Being there for that hello.
• Driving like a safety-minded adult rather than an adolescent.
• Letting people merge, in vehicles and in life.
• Returning my grocery cart to its place.
• Reaching out to my friend who has been sick.
• Leaning toward helpful, especially when I don’t want to.
• Looking for the beauty.
• Seeing the grace.
• Committing to seeing the beauty and the grace in us, all.

Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.

Often, it doesn’t seem like enough.

But it has to be,

Because it is.

 

You?

What do you do?

How do you practice the whole world is one family?

 

How do you remember

We are all one?

 

To offer

Positivity

To another?

 

Consider.

Ponder.

Practice.

~~~

Music. Ah, I struggled this week, trying to determine what music was most impacting me, most supporting me, my criteria. Then, magic unfolded.

On my birthday, I awoke to a friend’s email. His wife had passed a few days earlier, and he reported, after receiving the call, dressing to go out, he received this strong message from his wife; listen to this song.

He listened. And the song has been deeply supporting him through these difficult days.

I felt included in their miracle. Here is the song. Please do listen.

Here is Joan Baez singing Tom Paxton’s, The Last Thing on My Mind.

 

~~~

Dear Friends,

 

The whole world

Is one family.

 

We are connected

In ways we cannot

Even imagine.

 

May our eyes open,

So we may see.

 

May our hearts soften,

So we may feel.

 

May our minds relax,

So we may love.

 

May all beings benefit from our words together.

 

All blessings,

Aruni

~~~

2026 Invitations

Friends, the New Year hovers, her arms open, awaiting us. I am offering two programs in January 2025. Here they are, with more information up ahead:

 

Inner Quest Intensive

January 16-19, 2026

Information Here

 

The Kripalu Approach to Healthy Eating—Beyond Right & Wrong

Mondays in January

12:00 noon-1:30 (online)

Information Here

~~~

*Title quote by Swami Kripalu.

**Martin Luther King, Jr., Letter from Birmingham, Alabama jail on April 16, 1963.

Scranton, Pa., 1956

Me and My Beloved Cowboy Jacket

Memory is a trickster.

She flows all around me, scooping me up into a moment here, a moment there.

Slices of images, of feelings, flowing through me,

Coming and going,

Both specific and vague waltzing together inside my head.

 

I’m a little girl

Maybe I’m about eight years old.

I’m spending time alone with my daddy!

During the day!

This is—remarkable.

Unthinkable.

Unimaginable.

He is always, always working in our grocery store,

Working for me, doing it for me—

Even though all I want is him.

 

And today I have him.

 

It is Thanksgiving.

My daddy and me are going to our high school football game.

Central High School, our school, The Golden Eagles (us! Blue and gold)

Vs. the Technical High School (red).

How?

Why?

Would I remember those colors?

Memory blurs, refocuses again.

 

I’m excited and I’m cold.

Although I’m bundled up as only a child in the 1950’s could be,

I shiver,

Some with excitement,

Some with temperatures.

I zoom in to this next memory:

The wood of the bleacher beneath me feels lumpy and damp.

I lean into and huddle against my daddy.

I chew on the outside rim of the hot chocolate paper cup,

Making lasting imprints of my teeth, which is strangely exhilarating.

 

I have no memories of the game.

We never win. We are the college-bound kids,

They are the tech kids—they are The Other,

They live outside my world view.

 

They always win.

We always lose.

I want us to win vaguely, somewhere in me.

I don’t remember……

 

BUT OH!

How I remember,

Coming home,

Walking up the snow-crunchy steps

Coming to the front door….

 

Reaching for the doorknob

With all child’s weight,

So heavy and slow,

Pulling the door toward me

To open,

Using all of me.

 

It slowly creaks open.

 

Walking into the house,

I am instantly enveloped,

I am wrapped,

I am surrounded,

I am held:

 

In toasty warmth.

It is instantly comforting—

It is palpable, this warmth, it is a thing that holds me,

It is unlike anything I have experienced,

It is a container of deliciousness

Into which I have enter.

 

And then, the next level,

The combined cooking smells,

They cellularly caress me, playing with my nose,

My belly,

All of me.

 

Yum….

Turkey, I can detect,

Stuffing, maybe?

Mom’s amazing pumpkin pie

I still remember the glass pie holder.

The smells come together becoming another whole,

One entire entity.

 

Holding me.

Caressing me.

 

I stand.

The moment lasts.

 

In that moment, I absolutely understand—

I am warmed.

I am fed.

I am loved.

I am protected

I am cared for.

I am held.

 

Beneath my parents’ silent neglect,

Beneath their busy-busy-always-working,

Underneath the disappoints,

Wanting them to be different,

There is an alive and palpable loving.

 

In the moment, oh, how I know it,

deeply,

intimately,

and always.

 

And here I am

69 years later,

With yet another thanksgiving

Hovering.

I know it still.

Somewhere in me,

I know

It

Still.

 

Eventually

And

Inevitably.

~~~

Friends, do you have any Thanksgiving memory?

Any holiday memories that want remembering?

All voices welcomed,

All experiences honored.

~~~

I live about 12 minutes from the MotherShip, Kripalu Center.

When I drive to Kripalu to teach, as a ritual, I play this song a few times over.

It softens me.

It opens me.

It prepares me.

If you head toward a holiday gathering filled with potential positives or negatives or anything in between, consider playing this song for yourself as preparation.

 

Please Prepare Me.

Beautiful Chorus

~~~

Lyrics:

Please prepare me

To be a sanctuary

Pure and holy

Tried and true

With thanks giving

I’ll be a living

Sanctuary for you.

~~~

What’s a sanctuary?

How might you become one for others?

What might the gifts of that be?

~~~

Dear Friends,

May this be a moment of ease,

A moment of gentleness,

A moment of peace.

No matter what is happening around you,

May the doorway home

Be easily, easily opened.

May all beings benefit from our time together.

Go gently,

Aruni

We Who Believe in Freedom*

Highlights of
My morning
So far:

First and
Always-Foremost—
Risking my life
For my dog
To poop.

Dirt roads
And ice!
Currently
A spicy blend
Of
Ice and mud.

Feeling
Big thankfulness
For the spikes
On my boots.

Next—
Standing in the doctor’s office,
Seeing the cutest child/person/being.

I don’t know how to assess kid-age.
She did not come up to my knees,
If that helps
Child/age/assessment

She had purple glasses on,
Which took up space
On her
Petite
Face.

A determined,
Select finger,
Kept pushing them up
Into place.

Two pink plastic bows
Highlighted
Either side of her dark,
Tidy and comfortable
Kid-hair.

Her boots were fantastic.
I wanted a pair.
Tiny-cowboy-shaped-cute-crazy-metallic-color-
Boots.
She purposely stomped
A bit
When she walked,
Probably big fun.

Her mom said she
Chose those boots
Purposefully
To wear this morning.

That was obvious.

Tights and a little blue dress,
Her multi-colored parka
On top.

She grabbed my heart
With her cuteness,
With her fully alive
Presence.

And didn’t let go.

We had an interaction—
I’m not sure
That we
Actually talked.

Energy being more important
Then content, obviously.

I loved her.
I will love her.

I will remember her.

I never had a child.
I’ve been given
Many things
In this lifetime,
But not that.

Not a child.

It never occurred as
An option.

Being a radical lesbian feminist separatist,
Whatever that meant to me then,
A child wasn’t a part of that.

Then, living in an ashram.
No kids there,
Too busy
Going to God.

Then, after that.
Being too focused
Getting a post-ashram life.
And truth is,
I was old
By then.

But I do think—

Life has cared for me
By not
Giving me a child.

My heart would have
Broken open
With delight
And
Adoration
And terror
And love.

My heart
I believe
Is too-tender-
To be
The heart
Of
A
Kid-Mom.

Not this lifetime.
Not that.

Perhaps this
Is the only
Real regret
Of my life.
~~~
I left the doctor’s office
Weepy from this encounter.

Seeing this kid/person sitting
So patiently on her mom’s lap,
Reading a book.

They had a long wait.
She was much more patient
That I.

Weepy with gratitude
For the children.

Weepy with worry
For the children.

Weepy with anxiety
About the children.

What do they face
On this planet of ours?
In this country
Of ours?

What do they face?

What will they face?

Yet, with a breath,
With a moment,
Or a few,
A few breaths
And
A few
Moments,

I believe—

As this world was handed
To us,
We too, will,
Hand it to them.

They are
Our hope.
~~~
Which takes me to this song.
Another weep-er of the week.
Another one I compulsively played while driving,
Over and over,
Releasing tears,
Tears
That
Needed
Releasing.

We Who Believe in Freedom Will Not Rest.

Words and music are written by Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon, taken from the teachings of Ella Baker.

Have you ever heard of Ella Baker?

Ella was a brilliant activist, mentor and revolutionary, a Black hero of the civil rights Freedom Movement who inspired and guided emerging leaders.

Sung here by the incomparable Sweet Honey in the Rock, with lyrics following:

Chorus
We who believe in freedom cannot rest
(We who believe in freedom cannot rest)
We who believe in freedom cannot rest… until it comes!
(We who believe in freedom cannot rest)

Verses

Until the killing of Black men, Black mothers’ sons
Is as important as the killing of White men, White mothers’ sons…

And that which touches me most is that I had a chance to work with people
Passing on to others that which was passed on to me…

To me young people come first, they have the courage where we fail
And if I can shed some light as they carry us through the gale.

The older I get the better I know that the secret of my going on
Is when the reins are in the hand of the young who dare to run against the storm…

Not needing to clutch for power, not needing the light just to shine on me
I need to be just one in the number as we stand against tyranny…

Struggling myself don’t mean a whole lot I come to realize
That teaching others to stand up and fight is the only way my struggle survives…

I’m a woman who speaks in a voice and I must be heard
At time I can be quite difficult, I’ll bow to no man’s word…

More about Ella here

Shifting gears but not really, here is an Instagram I posted for Kripalu Center.  I’m grateful to share it with you.

 Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health Instagram Page

~~~

Friends,
Give us
The courage
And the willingness
To remember—

Every time
We come
From kindness,
We are
The
Healing.
Every time
We come
From kindness,
We are
The
Solution.

Every time
We come
From kindness,
We are
The silent
Revolution.

Help us
To be
A revolution
Of
Love.

May all beings benefit from our shared words.

Stay blessed,
Aruni
~~~
*Song title, words and music by Bernice Johnson Reagon

 

“The Whole World is One Family”*

 

Dear Friends,

The whole world
Is one family.

We are connected
In ways we cannot
Even imagine.

May our eyes open,
So we may see.

May our hearts soften,
So we may feel.

May our minds relax,
So we may love.

May all beings benefit from our words together.

All blessings,
Aruni

~~~
*Title quote by Swami Kripalu.

**Martin Luther King, Jr., Letter from Birmingham, Alabama jail on April 16, 1963.

 

What Was.
What Is.
What Might Be.

 

~~~
I heard this prayer once.
I don’t know from where?
From outside?
From
Inside?

I offer it today,
From my heart
To yours.

Thank you for everything 
You’ve given me.

Thank you for everything
You’ve taken from me.

Thank you
For everything
That’s
Left.

Stay blessed, dear friends,
Aruni