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One of the profound joys of doing the work I do is sitting with people and hearing their stories – and bearing witness to their lives.

And the more I do, the more I am reminded of ancient myths – and the universality of The Hero’s Journey – and the recognition of the importance of that journey in our own lives.

We have lost sight, I think, of the grandeur of our stories, in the breathtaking sweep of our lives and the impact of the tales we tell about ourselves. We have become deaf to the primal heartbeat that propels our story onward – and immune to the meaning of all we have experienced along the way.

I took some time this morning to – reflect – on the women I have known in my life – professionally as clients – women in history and society and culture – my female friends – and the remarkable women in my family.

I was thinking today about the women who have inspired me.

If you’re reading this and you’re a woman – I was probably thinking about you.

Yes, you.

I was thinking about the obstacles you have faced – emotional, physical, social.

I was thinking about the breathtaking ways you were able to rise above those challenges.

And I was thinking about the heartbreak when you could not.

I was thinking about the women who have, whether they know it or not, made me the man I am today.

I was thinking this morning about all the women out there who are struggling for their chance to be all they might be.

Or just to simply – be. In peace and freedom.

I was thinking about – circumstances and opportunity.

And potential.

And hope.

So, in honor of women everywhere – in honor of the women I hold in my heart – in gratitude – I sponsored a woman to participate in a skills training program for a year through Women for Women International. It’s a remarkable organization offering marginalized and struggling women what they need most – adequate tools – and the fair opportunity to use them.

To the women who – created me – and continue to do so – this is for you.

https://www.womenforwomen.org/sponsor-a-sister

It does not seem possible that in less than a year I have to re-post this. But darkness has once again obscured our view – or so it seems. The violence is real – but history teaches us that its grasp is temporary… Hold tight. Hold together. Remember who you are. Out of a senseless tragedy, find meaning in honoring the dead by being an agent of change among the living.

When dark times come again… as dark times do…

And hatred…

And violence…

And fear…

Feel choking… and present… and personal…

We are tempted to believe that darkness is all there is…

But try to remember that from the beginning …

We have been faced with those who have lost their humanity…

And in doing so try to annihilate ours…

It is not possible.

From New York to Newtown.

Birkenau to Boston.

From Phnom Penh to Paris

and Pulse

and Parkland

and…

and…

and…

Across time…

Across cultures…

And across the globe…

Storms come…

And change the landscape for a time.

Storms come…

And try to make us believe that nothing exists but storm…

But we hold tight…

Together…

In our fear…

In our sorrow…

In our outrage…

We hold tight…

Together…

In our love…

In our courage…

And in our faith

We hold tight…

Together…

In our resolve

… to do more

… to be more

We hold tight…

People of good will.

We hold tight…

And the storm consumes itself.

The darkness fades.

The skies clear.

And we endure.

We.

Endure.

Hurricanes and holocausts – storms personal and political and atmospheric – in the aftermath of Harvey and Irma – and on this anniversary of 9/11, I try to remember that walking hand-in-hand with devastation and loss and fear, forever dancing with betrayal and treason and cruelty, are kindness and caring and grace and heroism. Bold-face atrocities and injustices arise once again, as they have throughout time, to remind us of who we are, who we might become – and who we must never be. Heroic opportunities, large and small, are born in times like these for each of us. Yes, we mourn our losses – and fear the challenges that lie ahead – but never forget how breathtaking it is, and has always been, to witness people stepping into their better selves for the well-being of others.  While it is easy to become fixated on the problem of darkness in all its incarnations, while it is easy to lose hope – remember that the miracle has been, and will be, in our response to it – we rise up – together.   I Am. You Are. We Are. Mighty. Onward!

It has become increasingly clear to me, particularly with the tragic events in Charlottesville, that what we are witnessing in this country is the emergence of a shadow self, a Shadow America, existing in direct opposition to the principals upon which the United States was founded.  A Shadow America conceived in a petri dish of hate – and nurtured by the politics of division, racism, misogyny, homophobia and bigotry.

And as frightening and disheartening as it may be to watch the growth of this cancer on the American soul… as horrifying as it is to acknowledge what we see before us – in seeing the worst of human nature – in seeing who we do not want to be – who we must not be… We are reminded – in the faces of those who stood up against this hatred – of who we are capable of being – of who we can – and who we must be.

Shadows can only grow when there is a barrier to light.  Each of us has an opportunity, through a fearless moral inventory, to ferret out those barriers – not only politically and nationally and globally – but personally… To find the shadows of hatred and bigotry that exist inside of us – to name them – and purge them in the light of our better natures.

It is not enough to denounce the evil ideologies espoused by the terrorists in Charlottesville.

It is not enough to throw up our hands and resign ourselves to a humanity that has lost its way.

It is not enough to mourn an America that seems to have forgotten the democratic principals and promise that created it.

Use this tragedy to reaffirm who you want to be in your life.

Use this tragedy to take action, to use your voice, to reclaim your country.

Use this atrocity, to insist on a light of equality and kindness that is so piercing and so bright – no shadow can exist.

I am. You are. We are. Mighty.

Onward.

Like a Balm of Gilead on our national wound, I have been reaching back to some of my favorite authors to… quiet the noise… to find solace… to find grace… to find direction.

Words to replenish my soul when I feel depleted… inspirational and ignoble, aspirational and angry… healing and heartbreaking.

Human histories… steps along the way… in our journey to become… who we always were… but forget to be.

I was re-reading Dr. Maya Angelou’s “On the Pulse of Morning”… the poem written for the Inauguration of President Bill Clinton.

Remembering that day… it was a revelation… an invitation… a resurrection.

A gift of intention from the incoming administration to its people.

An intention yet to be fulfilled.

Reading it again today… it remains a revelation… but of a different kind.  Less of a gift bestowed on us, as it is a “call-to-arms” to us.

It is an intention we must fight for.

It is an intention we must claim.

It is our glory.

It is our guilt.

It is our destiny.

It is our way forward.

I invite everyone to read it again – with fresh eyes and an open heart.  With determination… and commitment… and optimism.

Claim This.

On The Pulse of Morning.  Dr. Maya Angelou

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers–desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot …
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours–your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

Angelou, Maya. On the Pulse of Morning. First hardcover edition. Random House, 1993.

A dear friend of mine, who voted for Donald Trump, wrote to me to question my protesting Donald Trump’s “Muslim Ban” – why I marched in Washington Square Park – and why I said I will march as long as I have breath in my body. The Quran, he said, is clearly anti-gay and anti-woman – and Islam, he believes, is rife with terrorists. 

Given the events of the last few days – I thought I would share my response here. Make no mistake – like many people who voted for Trump, my friend is a good man – whose flames of fear have been stoked to an inferno by Donald Trump and the Trump Administration. 

My friend:

I think what you are seeing in many of these protests is a pre-emptive strike on behalf of the majority of the country that did not vote for Donald Trump, this Administration or its policies.

Given what Donald Trump campaigned on, what he said he would do, and the extremist cabinet (and Vice President) that surrounds him – I think people are watching these initial steps as a gateway to some very troubling future actions. When you look back at Nazi Germany – or any fascist or extremist government – the initial steps were – small legislations that constrained freedoms in what might have seemed minor ways. Those legislations were used down the road for more dangerous, insidious policies. The time to be vocal is now – before these ideas become normalized and entrenched.

On a core level, the execution of the “ban” speaks to the capricious cruelty of this President as much as the ban itself.  The 7 countries singled out have no ties to any act of terror in the United States.  Not one death in this country was at the hands of any citizen from Iraq, Syria, Iran, Libya, Somalia, Sudan or Yemen.  Take that in.  People with legal and valid visas were stopped at airports across the country and threatened with deportation.  Allies who helped us during times of war.  Students coming back from vacation.  Parents with small children.  A father trying to visit his cancer-striken daughter. No warning.  No grace period.  Think about those who were detained.  Think of the unnecessary fear and shame.

We march, because we know that this President’s dark gaze could fall on anyone at any time.  

In terms of immigration and terrorism and ISIL – my view is that this government is fear-mongering and creating an “other” for people to blame and hate. When you look at the terror attacks in the wake of ISIL here in the United States, and you consider the millions of Muslims in this country living and working and leading perfectly normal American lives (3.3 million) – (many of whom came from the very countries you mentioned) – I think your argument falls down.  Statistically, terrorism by Muslims makes up one-third of 1 percent of all murders in the United States.  Read that again.

So because we have a few extremists – or – more accurately – mentally ill people with easy access to guns who latch on to the idea of jihad – we should fear, marginalize and isolate all Muslims?

And how many of the people who come here – have come here to escape the rigidity and extremism of the most oppressive interpretations of the Quran – and follow a more gentle, loving expression of their religion? Never forget that the people most affected by groups like ISIL are Muslims themselves. America’s history is inextricably linked to those who arrived here to escape religious oppression. Look at the extremely rigid and violent punishments meted out in the Bible – and in the Torah – and most religious texts – that have been rejected by Christians and Jews alike. How many Catholics rejected the Inquisition? How many Catholics or Evangelicals or Jews reject the most extreme views in their religions and happily practice personalized versions of their faith?

And, more importantly, when I think about this “ban.” I don’t think about “Muslims” – I think about individuals. I think about people.

I see faces.

And I think about our country and what it has stood for.

I watched Aleppo – and I am haunted by the faces of dead children and anguished parents who were desperate to escape ISIL and terror and death.  Mothers, Fathers, children – with dreams and hopes and gifts to give.

And we say… “No?”

Is that who you are?  Is that who we are?

You are a Cuban American. How many people did not want the Cubans when they came to Miami? “Drug addicts, deviants, criminals”… “taking our jobs, all on welfare.”

Cubans were hated and vilified and marginalized. They came here out of desperation – and fear – but with determination and hope – they were woven into the fabric of American culture.

Irish Catholics. Jews, Russians, Poles, Cambodians and on and on and on… our American history was, and is, created from the embrace of the unwanted.

At the end of the day, I think it boils down to – world view. I choose, perhaps to my own detriment, to reject a model of humanity that is based on fear… based on suspicion. Do we need better tracking of immigrants? Yes. For a whole host of reasons, not just terrorism. But all immigrants – not just Muslim immigrants.

And on the Muslim issue – with the BILLIONS of Muslims in the world – the solution to stopping extremists will lie in engagement with the vast majority of Muslims who are not extremist. The solution, as it is with every problem, will be found in building alliances – not marginalizing and vilifying. That path leads only to fear and darkness. It is a soulless path – and you will find no comfort there.

This government – claiming to be speaking for America – is trying to recast our country from a cruel blueprint of fear, racism, misogyny, homophobia and xenophobia.

I try to keep my heart focused on the original blueprint for this incredible country – on the vitality of the “Great Experiment” – and in finding renewal in the energy of hope that arrives here with every new face.

But today, this day, when people are being turned away at our borders, I picture them – I picture the men, women and children – being turned away at our borders because of their religion.

I picture their faces – potential Americans – whose contributions we will now never know – and whose fates, in part, will be ours to bear – and I think of Emma Lazarus and the poem I learned as a child but never took to heart..

Until now:

“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she with silent lips. 
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these…the homeless, the tempest-tost – to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

But not today.

Not with this President. Not with this Administration.

Today Donald Trump has tried to silence the heart-beat of America.

But my hope remains strong. Perhaps stronger than ever. Because 65,844,610 people are keeping the “Great Experiment” alive…

A whisper has become a roar.  Do you hear it?

With every foot-fall, at every protest, with every chant and response, with every petition, every donation, every act of kindness. With every utterance of “No” – we are keeping the pulse of America alive.

Do you feel it?

Our resistance – rooted in the sound of our forebears, the huddled masses, crying out from history at the injustice – is the life support of our democracy.

And so we march.

Onward.

What a gorgeous day to – turn off – cable news… just for a bit… stop reading the breathless accounts of our impending doom… maybe for an hour.. and think about this day – Martin Luther King Day – and what this man and his supporters were able to accomplish – and the way they were able to accomplish it. Focused passion. Clear headed action. We need to study this man and this time. We have a blueprint to follow if we choose it. If you ever needed to find hope in uncertain times – you will find it here. And by the way – Dr. King’s work is relevant to everybody. Every single person. Every single American can find value here. I am embarrassed to admit that I haven’t spent much time in Dr. King’s company in quite a long time. Today I am listening to speeches and reading some of his most famous quotes. I urge you to do the same. It won’t take long,.. pick one and sit with it for a couple of minutes. My favorite at the moment is:

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

But there are many. I would love to hear yours.

Instead of googling Russian Hookers and Golden Showers – google Martin Luther King Quotes… spend some time there.

Just a little.

You’ll feel better.