I don't think there can ever be enough love in the world. That's why there needs to be hippie warriors; those that stand tall, with their head aligned perfectly over their necks, arms held out in a "T" position, ready to hold an arrow that will target those who need love the most.
Many people are standing in line waiting for the arrow to hit them, and they may not even know it. When it hits, they have two choices. They can:
1) allow the energy of the arrow to permeate throughout their bodies, nourishing every cell, which may help them heal physically and emotionally
or...
2) resist the arrow's energy, only to find that they are depleted in every way, shape or form.
If you have the energy to give, then what's stopping you? Our job is to share, and we can do so liberally. It's the other person's problem if they don't accept what we have to offer. Everyone is on their own journey in life, that's for sure.
So, go be a "hippie warrior of love." How many arrows will you ignite into the world around you?
Oh, how I hope they are all received by those targeted. Can you imagine what the world would look like? I can, because I am a "hopeful optimist"!
I haven't been feeling the love in our household these days. Running here. Running there. We probably even saw a person (or two) in their underwear.
It's time for #OperationFebruary.
I cut out hearts. I put them into a bowl, some with writing on them. Some hearts say, "You are special to me." Others say, "I believe in you", which is a family favorite. Others are left blank where someone can express gratitude for an act of kindness, behavior or any other love fest they see another member commit in the course of the day.
I hung homeade, red "envelopes" marked with each family member's name. Nothing fancy; just stapled sides, with a slot at the top for the hearts to enter their new home. These artful wonders are taped to our dining room chandelier, so we won't have opportunity to forget that Operation February is serious business.
Each day in February, someone can help raise the love vibration in our home through these cut-out pieces of paper. Although they're just words, they're so much more. As we all know, sticks and stones can break bones, AND words can hurt.
#OperationFebruary aims to bring back love in our home, where it belongs. Words of kindness. Words that help another feel esteem and joy. I will post back as to how we are all faring.
Care to join us this February? It's never too late to start, because we all can use a dose of love!
Someone has a baby. Another person breaks her leg, finding herself confined to her home for months. The neighbor down the street is on the couch with the flu. What this means to me is a call to action for "love soup."
What is love soup?
Did anyone ever see the movie "Like Water for Chocolate?" where any creation made turns into a magical feast of yummy? That's the idea I have in mind each time I make my love soup.
I know that it works, because people ask for the recipe and I'm not sure how to answer, because the ingredients change from time to time.
The only constancy that rings true is the idea that when I think of the person I'm offering the soup to, I stir all of the ingredients, and send love to him/her. It also might help that I use Maidya Mishra's ayurvedic herbs, such as Moringa Leaf Soup Mix, Soma Salt and SVA Mum's Super Spice. All of those products are imbedded with herbs that heal the body and soul. Even my kids "drink" this soup up, and they're not always fond of my "healthy" meals.
What should you do the next time you feel called to make a creation for someone you love? Take out your crock pot (or go buy one). Throw in Bob's Red Mill Soup Mix, or dried black, pinto or kidney beans (or all of the above). Add in butternut squash, garlic, onion, carrots and any other vegetable that you have waiting to be part of this loving creation. Add in the herbs and wait.
Each time I make the love soup, it turns out differently. Isn't that what life is about anyway? We have a plan going in, and sometimes the plan works. Other times, the plan works better than our wildest dreams could ever imagine.
I hope that the soup will help the new mom find the time to snuggle her little even more. I hope that my friend with the broken leg gets to relax and find peace instead of worrying what to serve her family for dinner. I hope my neighbor down the street heals soon enough to join us outside for our sun-filled days.
I hope you'll spread the idea of cooking with love and share it with your world.
Blessings,
Lisa
P.S. To order the ayurvedic herbs, go to www.chandika.com
++I have no affiliation with this company.
"I'm coming home!" We say these words as we call our loved ones after leaving work. We say them as we finish running to the store to buy the last bit of ingredients for the red hot chile, with the extra kick. Heck, Dr. Dre, Eminem and Skylar Grey even sang them.
Those words mean so much more to military families. They dream about them. They even use these words in the form of a question, with the beginning word being "when."
"When are you coming home, Daddy?" expressed by a near three year old girl, as she stares into a camera deep inside her mom's laptop computer. He's miles away, donning his U.S. Army attire through the screen. She's tried touching him, wondering why she can't feel his skin, his hair and his beard. All she feels is the smooth, hard surface of the glass.
"When are you coming home, Daddy?", with the answer being, "A year, my darling daughter." She doesn't understand how long that is, because she just learned that when the sun comes up, it goes down sometime later that day, and when she wakes up she will see that same sun again.
This same girl learns how to count, not by blocks or writing numbers. Instead, she watches her mom make "X marks the spot" signs in tiny squares that adorn the calendar taped to the fridge.
With her mom's help, she counts the number of "X's, and when she counts past the number 20, she gets so confused that she beings to yell, "Start over! Start over!"
She's not really mad about getting the counting right. She's mad because she wants her Dad. "When are you coming home?" gets replaced with, "Why did you even leave me?"
I want anyone serving the military to come home. I want this for every child that needs their Dad or Mom to tuck them into bed at night, while whispering the words, "Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite." These words aren't that comforting, literally. However, if you asked that little girl if they scared her, she'd most likely tell you they're nothing compared to the fear of living one more day without her Dad.
Watch the YouTube clip below, courtesy of ESPN. I dare you to do so with a dry eye. Allow the love you witness to appreciate your home, your family, and your life.
"I'm coming home." Sing it, Dr. Dre. Sing it loud.
As time passes, I seem to be appreciating life's simple pleasures, taking nothing for granted. Today marks one of those days, as I wake up realizing it's my father's birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad! I've written before about his health "opportunity" when he had heart surgery nearly two years ago. Since his operation, I believe he is a walking miracle.
Like many who have faced mortality in such a profound way, he is here. My father is alive and well, and he seems to be enjoying his final days/months/years on this planet. Yes, he shows signs of aging, as many do in their second half of life. Yet, I have witnessed a spark in his step when he spends time with his youngest granddaughter. It appears she came here to remind him about gratitude, silliness, and most importantly, love. When she visits, my niece takes her "Papa" on a walk; she in her Snow White costume, stretching her hand up to meet his. This littlest of beings, with her hand soft and smooth, holding all that the future holds; my father, with his wrinkled, yet strong fingered hand to meet hers.
Through my niece, I get to catch a glimpse into the feelings I know my father experienced when I was three years old. I remember sitting on my mom's lap, as she rocked me in her rocker. We'd look out the big bay window, waiting for his car to pull up in the drive. "Daddy's home!" I would yell, running to the front door to greet him. I don't remember anything more except the big smile he had as his big arms wrapped me in the biggest, warmest embrace.
The cycle of life shows in this grandfather/granddaughter connection. I hope my father continues to dance right on out into the wild blue yonder on his birthday, and every day he shares himself with his granddaughter, myself, and anyone else that's lucky enough to be part of his dance.
I had the privilege to work with a pregnant couple the other night. I found myself imagining that I was cupid, shooting hearts of love through the air. The night was blissful, watching the tired husband return from his long day of work in the entertainment industry. The wife, being 37 weeks pregnant AND a stay at home mom, chasing after an energetic two year old son, had her own feelings of exhaustion. Together, this made for the perfect time to restore and renew, not only themselves, but each other.
We started by having the husband sprawl out on the couch, with the wife lying in front of him, her back on his chest. I asked her to give "all of her energy" so that he could hold and support her. They both melted into a cocoon-like state, and unconsciously, they were able to sense each other rhythms of breath. They began to tune into the other and it was as if their breaths became one. As it should be.
This being baby #2, there hadn't been as much time dedicated to preparing for his or her (they want to be surprised) birth. We discussed the birth of their son, and this provided an opportunity to rid any held tension, anxiety or frustration that they may have been carrying into their current life. They then were lulled by a visualization created to allow love and peace to prevail as the expansion of their family gets even closer.
Lastly, we ended with some partner yoga. We laughed. We laughed some more. And, here's what the wife emailed me yesterday:
"Thanks so much for last night, we had a lovely evening, it was just what I was looking for. A perfect blend, and a true testament to the enjoyment. In my 37th week of pregnancy, I slept like the babe within and didn't need to get up once! Also, Andy who's been plagued by papa stress, didn't have his early morning insomnia! So great. We need to do that more often, just the two of us, always good to have a helpful reminder! I recommend all partners take some time to reconnect and get excited about the next journey!" -Brooke Castor -Manhattan Beach I left them with more joy and love in my own heart, knowing this new baby was inside his/her mama performing cartwheels of gratitude. Whether pregnant or not, it's always a good thing to do something as a couple to reconnect. Go walk in nature. Write each other a love letter (or even an email). Do something to honor the person who is walking side by side with you through life. I have done so with my life partner, and will continue to do so because no matter how long we are together, I want that blissful feeling to prevail.
