Empathic Ecologist

  I sit here in the dirt  Death and life surround me The endless cycle Birth to life to death to dirt To life again I sit here in the clay My hands can touch The life that has come before  Seed to tree to log to worm Turning death to dirt to life once more I sit here and I try  To peer beyond the veil Of Death, pale and flowing  It Haunts my mind  Comes to me at night  Visits me in the sun  Where can I go?  Where could I run?  I sit here on the ground And ponder the whole of being The living things surround  Me in my thoughts  We are here together We are all one  And yet, unique  Like cells inside the body of God  We live, and breathe, and move this sod  We are here  We are everywhere We sit, we stand, we run, we play  We dance, we die, we decompose  Our final moments written  In poignant prose  Upon the parchment of time  We write life, we read divine  I sit here in the di...

Introduction Clutter. It’s a dirty word, right? It comes in different forms: mental clutter, a cluttered room, a cluttered schedule, digital clutter...you name it. I find myself more and more longing to “de-clutter” my life. I find myself longing for simplicity. Is it possible to find meaning in a simple life?  Considering Minimalism      Sometime in 2019 or 2020 I discovered a beautiful little book about the Japanese minimalist movement called “Goodbye Things.” The cover itself was simple and elegant, and that beauty, along with the title, caught my attention as I passed it at my local library. I checked it out and started reading about the author’s personal journey from a cluttered life to a minimalist life. I sensed something stirr deep within me - a longing for simplicity.           Personal sacrifice and austerity were two qualities that I learned from Jesus and his followers. To limit one’s materi...

     I heard the song "Six in the Morning" by the band SHAED for the first time this weekend. It inspired me to write a poem about empathy. I share it as this week's post:  I See the Tear I sit here in the sand  Next to you The sun rises Your face brightens I see the tear Something in me stirs "Hello, my old friend," Pain says to me "I too see the tear." I sit here in the sand A hand within me Reaches out to you Yet someone holds me back "Pain, I see you there, My old friend." "You can't reach out," He says to me "You've been hurt Time after time after time I've seen your tears." I sit here in the sand I choose to move My hand touches your shoulder "Are you ok?" Compassion wakes up I see the light. Copyright 2021. Richard Best.       

As those of you who follow my Youtube Channel will know, yesterday I posted a video titled "Cultivating Your Child's Natural Curiosity" (see link below). In it I talked about the work of Alison Gopnik, internationally recognized leader in the study of child development and learning. Her book, "The Gardener and the Carpenter," has offered me some insight and inspiration for improving my life as a parent of three young children. She compares the role of parents to that of a gardener - i.e. someone who "cultivates" the environment in which we plant our children so that they can thrive and grow up to be healthy adults. That all sounds great, right? So, this cultivation shouldn't be too hard, should it?  *Insert someone's sarcastic cough and a quiet "bullshit" here*       Yeah, right. Being a parent is hard. It is exhausting. It can make you angry. It can bring you to the brink of insanity or the precipice of depression. And i...