Daily Dose (February 10 – 13)

TUESDAY FEBRUARY 10 — In a world where exclusion is real, I choose the Gospel: “You belong. Your humanity is not up for negotiation. Your presence does not require anyone’s permission.”
I choose to be a witness.

And in my heart, I am so grateful for all the light spilling each day from the Buddhist monks, witnesses for a world where peace is possible. As they come to the end of their the 120-day, 2,300-mile journey, let us take to heart their reflections—honoring the reality that we are all on this journey together.
“In a world that is often too loud, too divided, too hurried, we forget a simple truth: beneath our different clothes, languages, and beliefs, we all share the same wish—to live without fear, to love without boundaries, to breathe in peace.
These monks walk not for themselves, but for every child who deserves a future without conflict, and for every soul seeking a moment of calm. Even our silent four-legged friend knows that peace isn’t just a word—it’s a way of moving through the world together.
When we stand together in such numbers, our collective presence becomes a ‘Golden Ripple,’ reaching even the farthest corners of the earth.
Bring your heart. Bring your hope. Let’s show the world that kindness is still the most powerful force we have.”
(Thank you, Walk for Peace)

And this week let us take with us this meditation as our prayer.
“Some people may doubt that our walk can bring peace to the world — and we understand that doubt completely. But everything that has ever mattered began with something impossibly small. A single seed. A first mindful breath. A quiet decision to take one step, then another.
Our walking itself cannot create peace. But when someone encounters us — whether by the roadside, online, or through a friend — when our message touches something deep within them, when it awakens the peace that has always lived quietly in their own heart — something sacred begins to unfold.
That person carries something forward they didn’t have before, or perhaps something they had forgotten was there. They become more mindful in their daily life — more present with each breath, more aware of each moment. They speak a little more gently to their child. They listen more patiently to their partner. They extend kindness to a stranger who needed it desperately.
And that stranger, touched by unexpected compassion, carries it forward to someone else. And it continues — ripple by ripple, heart by heart, moment by moment — spreading outward in ways none of us will ever fully witness, creating more peace in the world than we could possibly measure.
This is our contribution — not to force peace upon the world, but to help nurture it, one awakened heart at a time. Not the Walk for Peace alone can do this, but all of us together — everyone who has been walking with us in spirit, everyone who feels something stir within them when they encounter this journey, everyone who decides that cultivating peace within themselves matters.
One step becomes two. Two become a thousand. A thousand become countless. And slowly, gently, persistently — not through grand gestures but through ten thousand small acts of love — we can help make the world more peaceful.
This is our hope. This is our offering. This is why we walk.
May you and all beings be well, happy, and at peace.”
Thank you Walk for Peace

And today, February 10, the monks will be at National Cathedral in Washington D.C. for a service at 1pm EST. Here’s a link to join the service.

“I’ve been watching the monks almost from the beginning. I find them extremely interesting and moving. For me personally what strikes me is the contrast between their peacefulness, and heart, and wisdom, and the very horrible things happening around us these days. I’m in the DC area and they will be here tomorrow. I’m going to be so sad when they leave. I cry just thinking about it. I love their gentleness, tolerance, discipline, personal sacrifice, self control and kindness. They have touched millions.” (Thank you, Gabriele Lamprecht)

WEDNESDAY FEBRUARY 11 — In a world where exclusion is real, I choose the Gospel: “You belong. Your humanity is not up for negotiation. Your presence does not require anyone’s permission.”
I choose to be a witness.
And one of the gifts of wisdom the Buddhist monks offered to us these past weeks, is the permission—and the necessity—to embrace peace within.
“We walk not to protest, but to awaken the peace that already lives within each of us,” said Bhikkhu Pannakara, spiritual leader of the Walk for Peace.
Because here’s the deal: We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves. And as another monk reminded us, “Do not let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.”

This makes sense. And is so important in a world where it is easy to be troubled, and “have no words.” Recently, people have shared with me, “I feel so powerless.”
This I know to be true: Uncertainty and insecurity take a toll on our emotional and mental and spiritual well-being.
I choose to be a witness… Yes. And it comes from being grounded in self-care. And self-care is a radical act of healing, resilience and well-being.
So. Where do we begin?
Well, a self-care plan isn’t a bad start.
This I know: I don’t want to shut down. We begin with the essential reminder that care of any kind—engagement, service, kindness, generosity, ministry, teaching, compassion, gentleness, encouragement, healing, being a witness—is predicated on, and fueled by, self-care.
And it helps to be reminded that Sanctuary—that place (or places) for replenishment (refilling self-care and self-love)—is in our DNA. Which means this is not a program or technique or strategy. It is about honoring what is already there. Inside. Now. Let’s call it the principal ingredient (building block) to being strong. To being grounded. In other words: we are not at the mercy of (or overburdened by) public opinion. Or any duty thrown our way containing the word “should”.
And we find this sanctuary through a portal… yes, a doorway (to enter into, and to leave behind). From that sanctuary, a place of safety (the Celtic word is “Caim”), we say yes—to wholeness and reconciliation, and we say no—to detachment, and exclusion, and small-mindedness.
I am buoyed, reading this; “Yesterday I had a good morning. Once again when I recollect myself, I again find the same simple demands of God: gentleness, humility, charity, interior simplicity; nothing else is asked of me. And suddenly I saw clearly why these virtues are demanded, because through them the soul becomes inhabitable for God and for one’s neighbor in an intimate and permanent way. Hardness and pride repel, complexity disquiets. But humility and gentleness welcome, and simplicity reassures.” (Raissa Maritain’s journal entry from the early 1900s)
Yes, self-care and self-love. Karen Lee White’s affirmation, “Unconditional love for self, heals and nurtures every aspect of our beings; it helps us face fear and hopelessness and refocus on hope, gratitude, and beauty. We may not have been prepared for these unprecedented times, but neither do we need to fall victim to them.”

And let us take Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ reminder to heart. “Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely.”
As “witnesses”—grounded in self-care—we offer coffee, and we make space.
We make space to see—I “see” you, and you belong here.
We make space to give wholeheartedly.
We make space to welcome those excluded and demeaned.
We make space to offer comfort or reprieve or hope.
We make space to speak truth to power, to not be silent about things that matter.
We make space to be Sabbath (sanctuary—self-care and self-love), in a world of disquiet, disruption, misgiving and cruelty.

“Dear God, May we come home to what is true within us. May we be grounded in love, steady in compassion, awake to our purpose, and willing to carry that light into the world. Amen.” Maria Shriver

THURSDAY FEBRUARY 12 — We are all wounded healers (where our wounds cease to be a source of shame and become a source of healing). No, this is not a strategy. This is a fact. It spills from those parts of our life that have been broken open, from those parts of us flawed and imperfect.
So. What if this is not about accepting imperfection as some kind of divine teaching moment? What if the gift is in the inimitability of our humanity?
Here’s the deal: When we embrace what is already inside, we live from the power of sufficiency, and let it spill.
I am (quite literally) here today because of people who let the light of kindness, compassion, mercy, and healing spill in my life, at times when bleakness was too much to carry.

Which brings us back to our topic this week: In a world where exclusion is real, we have the opportunity to spill that light. To say to those burdened and excluded and demeaned and threatened. “You belong. Your humanity is not up for negotiation. Your presence does not require anyone’s permission.”
I choose to be a witness.
And yes, I am here today because of people who were “witnesses”.

So, I am gratefully drawn to (and refueled by) a story Henri Nouwen tells about his time with the community at L’Arche.
There is one of my friends who is quite handicapped but a wonderful, wonderful lady.
She said to me, “Henri, can you bless me?”
I remember walking up to her and giving her a little cross on her forehead.
She said, “Henri, it doesn’t work. No, that is not what I mean.”
I was embarrassed and said, “I gave you a blessing.”
She said, “No, I want to be blessed.”
I kept thinking, “What does she mean?”
We had a little service, and all these people were sitting there. After the service I said, “Janet wants a blessing.” I had an alb on and a long robe with long sleeves.
Janet walked up to me and said, “I want to be blessed.” She put her head against my chest, and I spontaneously put my arms around her, held her, and looked right into her eyes and said, “Blessed are you, Janet. You know how much we love you. You know how important you are. You know what a good woman you are.”
She looked at me and said, “Yes, yes, yes, I know.”
I suddenly saw all sorts of energy coming back to her. She seemed to be relieved from the feeling of depression because suddenly she realized again that she was blessed. She went back to her place and immediately other people said, “I want that kind of blessing, too.”
Yes.
I want that kind of blessing too.
Today, the world we live in—where division and isolation, and insecurity and loneliness, and fright from heartlessness, for so many, are profoundly real—makes stories about blessing more imperative. And heartfelt.

Let us never forget, we do not lose our capacity to care. To make space. To be present.
To bless and be blessed.
And blessing is not separate from fraught or broken lives. On the contrary; we pass this blessing on to one another, even from splintered and imperfect selves. (It makes sense to me that the word salvation, from the Latin “salve,” means a balm, or ointment to heal.)
Because division and cynicism too easily grip us, we “miss” one another… meaning we miss opportunities to see, to hear, to love, to touch and to bless. But here’s the part that befuddles me. So often when we do touch (or are blessed)—and it does happen very often—we don’t see it. Ahhh, but when we do see it (even when we are broken)… it is the very kiss of God.

And our deep gratitude to the Buddhist monks. They have indeed “blessed” us. If you missed their talk at the National Cathedral, you can enjoy it here.
And in this neck of the woods, we raised our glasses and our voices for our Super Bowl champs, the Seattle Seahawks, as they enjoyed a parade through downtown Seattle. With a fan base of nearly one million people along the parade route. My Oh My.

FRIDAY FEBRUARY 13 — In a world where exclusion is real, we have the opportunity to spill the light of Grace. To say to those burdened and excluded and demeaned and threatened. “You belong. Your humanity is not up for negotiation. Your presence does not require anyone’s permission.” We can choose to be a witness.

But, let us not forget: Care of any kind—presence, kindness, compassion, inclusion—begins with self-care.
I stand by that, more than ever. Depletion and exhaustion are rampant.
Not that many years ago, I spoke to a group of hospice care workers, about emotional and spiritual hydration. I started this way, “What I’m about to tell you is very selfish. I want you to be replenished and refilled. Because one day I will need one of you.”
No one of us is on this journey alone. And we need one another not only for care and comfort, but to pick up the pieces and find ways to create spaces in our world that do not diminish, belittle, or devastate. What can I do to create that kind of world?
Too often, when I see acts of courage I see heroism, and I don’t see myself. Or I see how far I have to go. Or I see how far short I have fallen.
But I do understand tired. And I do understand discouraged. And I do understand the end of my resources.
So let’s begin here: How is your spirit?
What can we do to replenish it today?

Speaking of replenishment, the Buddhist monks spilled that abundantly to us, as they walked for peace. I read this, and it did my heart good.
“Kaylee Peters, 44, had left her children with her parents and bundled up so tightly that only a sliver of her face was exposed. She clutched a bouquet of yellow carnations that she had bought at a supermarket — an offering, she said, to show how grateful she was.
‘I just want to have a moment of calmness and peace and feeling like I’m enough,’ Ms. Peters said, tears collecting behind her sunglasses. She was by no means alone.
The crowds coming out for the monks have transcended racial, religious, economic, educational and geographic lines. The common thread was a belief that the monks were providing comfort. Some found it difficult to articulate why, exactly, the walk had touched them in such a profound way, but it did, offering hope and encouragement that otherwise seemed to be in short supply.” (New York Times) And I say, “Amen.”
Let us embrace the invitation and the permission to let our light spill, without asking, “Is it enough?” Or, “Do I have what it takes?”

When we honor places of sanctuary and self-care and self-love, we are reminded that we are on this journey together.
I’m a big fan of “High on the Hog”, a Netflix series about how African American cuisine transformed America. And how inviting someone in, to the table, makes space for presence, and connection. And healing. And resilience. And you never know who needs that space. But you still make the invitation, “Come on in.” (Even and especially when they say, “I have no words.”)
In the series, a member of a local community was described this way, “He wouldn’t say it, but his life is really heavy right now.” (Raise your hand if you’ve been there.)
That certainly doesn’t mean that we sugarcoat the world. Lord have mercy, there’s enough pain and injury to go around. And I can tell you that I am not a fan of people who—in the name of upbeat coaching or “theology”—dismiss life’s complications, irritations, tensions and visible suffering.
But here’s the deal: When we make space, we are able to bring who we are, wholeheartedly—whether that be grief or sadness, or bewilderment, or gladness or joy. And in that space, there is hope. There is mercy. And there is compassionate inclusion.
Let’s call this space, the Gift of Enough.
“Not all of us can do great things.” Mother Teresa reminds us. “But we can do small things with great love.” And today, is my hour. To stand. To speak. To love.

“For I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick, and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Gospel of Matthew

Prayer (poem) for our week…
Morning prayer.
We wait in the dawn
Until Your light is within us
Lord, let your deep joy
Shine out from our eyes
Grant that your wisdom
Will inspire us with brightness
Let the splendour of your glory
Glow out through our actions
Come and burn within us
Until we radiate your light
Capture our cold hearts
Set us ablaze with your love
Change us and we shall changed
Lord, fill us with the light of life…
David Adam

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