In Honor and Memory of Captain Matthew Freeman

I was reminded today that it has been just over a month since Captain Matthew Freeman was shot and killed in Afghanistan, a soldier who was dear to our heart. I barely got through his funeral. My husband and I were extremely taken aback by the outpouring of love by the local businesses when we drove into Richmond Hill, GA for his funeral.

I am still crying. I wanted to evaluate, why am I crying?

I am crying for his wife, Theresa.

I am crying because the war is far from over and it seems to be getting worse, with more fatalities daily.

I am crying because the Taliban must own such a horrific, long, history of pain that they feel they absolutely have to inflict this much pain on everyone else.

I am crying because I am a new Army officer's wife and I bravely admit for me, it is a scary thing to be.

I am crying because the guys my husband surrounds himself with and calls friends are the most beautiful people and I cannot imagine having as good and honorable of a collection of friends as he has collected in his life thus far...like Matt, Bryan, Bree to name a few.

I am crying because I was supposed to see Matt Freeman and Theresa Hess Freeman, as a couple, someday at our new duty station and now, I will not.

I am crying because I cannot imagine what she is doing to get herself up each day and be strong and live life without her husband ever coming back.

I am crying because these military jobs are extremely honorable and necessary in this day and age and I wish they were not.

I am crying because I do not think I could do what Matt did, or be what he was.

I am crying out of joy because the light of God showed on his face and in all his pictures.

I am crying just thinking of how beautiful the funeral was, as was the rain that followed it.

I am crying for his Mother. Because I am a Mother now and feel the pain when my daughter stubs her toe. I cannot fathom crying for the pain of my deceased child.

I am crying for every single military family and friends of the families throughout all of history who have had to deal with this torturous pain.

I am crying for humanity. Crying out. Please let us find our way to exist amongst one anothers' differences.

I only met Matthew and Theresa one time and it was brief. They were coming from or going to a funeral. They both looked stunning. I was impressed by them. They looked ravishing physically and spiritually. I looked up to them because of what great things my husband had to say about each of them. Chad knew them both since high school and spoke very highly of both Matt and Theresa. But more, Theresa was instrumental in helping a needy Army wife feel more comfortable while moving to a foreign country. I e-mailed her, probably too often, with my list of questions regarding Okinawa and Japan and the military life there, our shared home. She spent a good bit of her time typing me long messages, answering all my questions, making me feel MUCH, much more prepared than the military had made me feel. This gift she gave me was invaluable. She helped me deal with a very stressful move with much more ease. I can only think that both her and her husband were just the most giving, wonderful people and the world is not quite as well off without one of them in it. I hope to meet Theresa again someday in Japan and thank her for her help and thank her for her husband and all he did.

I plan to continue to mourn Matt's memory in a way I think he would appreciate. He was such a good man and he supported wonderful charities and good causes that I keep reading about. A facebook group for Matt that I joined, started by a woman named Dana Bowers, regularly reminds me of all the things that Matt stood for. So in celebrating his legacy I decided to continue to put my energy in advertising his foundations and good causes; I plan to post this blog! I plan to post notices around our military home complex for his foundation. I plan to celebrate his life. AS the Washington post put it, the deaths of Micheal Jackson, an entertainer and Ted Kennedy, a politician were overshadowing the deaths of our brave leaders and soldiers over seas that same week.

He was a soldier. He was a high school friend of my husband. He is missed all around the world.
This is a direct quote from her facebook group, please see the foundation details. Also the pictures I used for this blog are from the group, In Memory of Matt Freeman:

“Dana Bowers
Finally, if you are able to financially (in any amount) please consider the Matt Freeman Scholarship fund.

You may send a check payable to:
'Captain Matthew Freeman Memorial Scholarship' c/o Bryan Bank PO Box 1299Richmond Hill, GA 31324Thank you again for joining this group! Please continue to keep the Freeman and Hess families in your prayers along with SPC Lowe and all the men and women who continue to serve our country.”

........Hello All,I hope this finds you well. Yesterday marked one month since our friend, Marine Capt. Matthew Freeman was killed in action in Afghanistan. Unfortunately he was just one of the 52 U.S. troops killed in Afghanistan in August 2009, which was the deadliest month to date. September 2009 is looking to surpass that number with 13 casualties as of September 8. Matt's friends and family made a great showing of support for him at his services, and I hope you will continue to give that support for our remaining service members still overseas. (If you are interested in getting news from the front lines, please check Rex Temple's site at: http://www.afghanistanmylasttour.com/) I also wanted to take this time to send out a new site I was alerted to, as well as remind you of some of our adopted causes. A new site for adopting a service member is called Herobox at:
http://www.herobox.org/
This site is similar to the one Matt was involved in at:
http://www.anysoldier.com/
If you have the means to send a care package, or even a card or letter, through either site, please do! It will be greatly appreciated (and more rewarding than sending out your monthly bills!) Also, our group "mascot" if you will, SPC Christoper 'Kit' Lowe is still recovering at Walter Reed, so please send him a funny card to speed his recovery and get him back to Savannah sooner! (Laughter is the best medicine).

Spc Christopher Lowe
Abrams Hall, Box #10196900
Georgia Ave NW”

"Let us solemnly remember the sacrifices of all those who fought so valiantly, on the seas, in the air, and on foreign shores, to preserve our heritage of freedom, and let us reconsecrate ourselves to the task of promoting an enduring peace so that their efforts shall not have been in vain."
~Dwight D Eisenhower


I believe we all die at the exact, appropriate time, when our duties here are done. May God watch over his soul.
Rest in peace, Matt,
With love,
Rebecca Sweeney Krokoski

Expect The Unexpected

The Life of a Military Wife, New to Okinawa, Japan

When our airplane first touched earth in mainland Japan, we had been traveling and flying for over 30 hours. That is, flying on a military flight with a 2 year old and many stops containing unexpected delays. We first landed on a military base south of Tokyo to refuel, drop off and pick up more military families. I said FAMILIES. Not soldiers or people in uniform just flying for work. No. FAMILIES, most likely relocating with screaming infants and toddlers, pissed off military wives and even more pissed off single soldiers from all ranks. The wives' stern, empty and slightly pale faces seemed to say, “I didn't ask for this assignment so I do not care that my child has been screaming for 13 hours of your time.” And the childless military people's faces read, “WHY on earth can't they create flights for families-with-children SEPARATE from the flights for us.” And shockingly, I sat there, almost the entire duration in peace, with a totally peaceful child and an almost peaceful husband.

Mirabelle was an angel. I think she was so quiet because it was a completely new experience to be without the comforts and familiarity of her own home for an extended period of time. She was just...being, observing. That and pure exhaustion from this LONG, bender of a travel “day.” She slept quite a bit on the flight because her poor little 24 month old body simply just had to shut down wherever she found herself, in any position. I loved every minute of it.

My husband on the other end of the spectrum, is completely mortified to fly. Major phobia here. He never reads my blog so he will never get mad at me for sharing this. And the reality was, the military placed him on an assignment that made us to fly the entire way across the US and the entire way across the pacific....in two consecutive flights. HAHAHAHA. He was a dream though, no complaining because his fear made him silent. Any turbulence made him shutter like a scared, little, 7 year old, girl who was flying for the first time. Knuckles white on the arm rests. But other than that, he did great. Hey, we all have our fears, mine is needles, dentists, doctors and shots....seriously to a sweaty and irrational level. But I still love to laugh at him. Ha ha, big tough Army guy. He pulled through just fine. I love him for his strengths and more for his weaknesses and that was an epiphany for me, so every experience has it's good and proper place.

So me enjoying my husband's silent nervousness, my daughter's exhaustion and the pain of the other military wives made me feel blissful and peaceful in the most fulfilling way! I was sitting there, being quiet (after too much talking through too many family visits before leaving the country), being peaceful and reflecting on what my new life was about to mean. I loved that long flight, to my surprise.

At that first touch down once in Japan, we (all 300 of us) were herded off the plane into a waiting or large lobby area of the first military airport. What were we waiting for? No one told us. How long would we be here? What are we doing? What is the meaning of life? I am delirious here people, I need some explanations! But it is the military, “hurry up and wait, while clueless” is the motto I have learned from day 1. Even though the lack of good sleep weakened our bodies and minds, my family came off the plane with huge smiles, so excited to be in Japan for the first time. Our new country. I then went from frozen, dead feeling legs while walking into the waiting facility to cracking up laughing. As we entered the waiting area Judge Judy was on a wide screen TV surrounded by soda and snack machines filled with Gatorade and Doritos. It just surprised me. But then I realized ok, we ARE on an American air base after all. I just can't believe how much US, junk, stuff we Americans fly in to far away countries to comfort ourselves with normalcy, no matter how unhealthy. It made me tumble over with laughter thinking how far we had journeyed and got off that plane and nothing really had changed......yet.

Once we finally got to our destination ….8 years later..... we slept. We ate. We slept at the very comfortable Air Force Inn accommodating 2 bedroom hotel room. We ate.......Philly cheese steak sandwiches and Taco Bell. Ugh. That was all that was offered in walking distance from our lodging. My one and only major complaint about the military is the lack of attention paid to healthy foods and drink. But anyhoo. We were (somewhat) nourished, rested and being taken very good care of by Chad's sponsor. His sponsor picked us up from the airport, helped us find cell phones and cars and took us to our two housing possibilities. Nice guy with a very nice wife.

This is, however, where my nightmare and struggles began in Okinawa. I got a sinus infections right out of the gate when we arrived, lots of pain. But that was nothing to my struggle with trying to keep calm during the housing situation. My house and home is my haven. My house is my sanctuary. My house is my party place. My house is my daughter's comfort zone and stability. My house is my open door to visitors, where I love to cook. My house is my Yoga place, Reiki place and resting place. So obviously it is my everything. I had liked the choice the military made for me on location. Awesome tropical island, sweet. Thank you Uncle Sam. Housing choice......I was not so sure. I had seen housing buildings around the bases we had been near the first week and I was, in a word, underwhelmed. The housing had been built in the 1950's and was built to be secure for class 90 Typhoons coming and ripping through the area. They were once story, off white cement and looked like Trenchtown, Jamaican ghettos. I was scared of what we would be presented with.

The day to look at housing arrived. I was sad to leave my cushy, regular room/maid service hotel. So in my way, I breathed....deeply. I was sweating as we got in our sponsor's car. I felt my face looking pissed, tense. My intuition was trying to squash my mind saying, “I know I am going to hate these houses, lets just get this over with.” We did not have the regular option to live off base in a home of our choosing, for temporary budget reasons. And I despise moving, so I knew wherever we live we would be stuck with for the next three, long, years. So we pulled up to our first choice's parking lot. I was shaking, angry, cold sweat and trying to just let go and believe that I could make my new home amazing even if it felt like I was living in a dirt hut. I desperately tried, in my jet lagged mind to let go and be thankful for whatever it was we would have to put up with. I have an awesome child and husband and my health. Life will not be so bad. We walked into a large, tower apartment/condo style building. I hate towers, I thought. Hmpf. But as we entered the unit....my first thought was oh! This is very clean! This is big! This place has tons of storage! This place has great windows! This place has big bedrooms! Wow, two balconies!? The kitchen is nice! The bathrooms are big, with lovely tile! Oooh, is that a bar area??! SO. Either my breathing and conscious reminder to stay positive and thankful, worked ...OR we just really lucked out with this place. Our next option........yea, looked like a Trenchtown, Jamaican ghetto and Chad and I both hated it. But we had that first choice and we jumped on it! And I love it here. I cannot bring my doggy into the country or to this building, sadly. But the residence is VERY nice, has a huge playground for Mirabelle, has an extensive recycling center on the ground level and every tenant I have met so far has been incredibly kind to me. We live on a Marine base about 5 minutes from Chad's work and I foresee us loving it here.

I have embraced this experience with wide open arms. I am loving my new home. I am comfortable now trying to make a perfectly decorated and tidy home while also being patient about this materializing in due time. I am being patient in situations like, if my kitchen is spotless but with a messy pantry. The same is true for my life. I am formulating a balance between total comfort and relaxation while also finding something to do here that really challenges me regularly.

I plan to take Japanese language lessons, which will be a long class! I plan to find a personal trainer, which will no doubt create a ton of good pain and effort. I plan to rest when my child naps. I plan to write and paint as much as possible. I plan to beach often. I appreciate the solitude of living in a new country, it gives me time to focus more on ME. Though I have surprisingly spoken to my friends and family more now than I did when I lived in the same region as everyone!!! It is all balanced and nice.

The island of Okinawa as I have witnessed so far, is not the calm, quiet, healthy place I expected. It is loud, fast, has a lot of bars, busy traffic and is very crowded. Things are never what you expect. So I totally embrace it all. I will seek out my quiet towns as I explore more of this large island. I will find my cherry blossom Buddhist meditation gardens. I do not doubt that. I will embrace what America has brought here and celebrate my patriotism while trying to unite humanity from regions of opposite ends of the earth. But as I learn about this new culture and location I will continue being flexible and peaceful and I fully intend to grow, still deep breathing and become something....unexpected.

We Made It!

No Internet Service Yet,

But We Made It!!!

Stay Tuned......many pictures and posts to come!!!

I love Okinawa!!!!!!

My Magic 8 Ball.....Japan!

And we're off!......almost.....

Moving to Japan this week!

For real!

Much anticipation!

Very excited!

Long time coming! Long time spent waiting for this day!

I see things in pictures like this, in the rice fields of Japan;

This is art created by carefully placed rice plants:

"Stunning crop art has sprung up across rice fields in Japan . But this is no alien creation - the designs have been cleverly planted. Farmers creating the huge displays use no ink or dye. Instead, different colours of rice plants have been precisely and strategically arranged and grown in the paddy fields. As summer progresses and the plants shoot up, the detailed artwork begins to emerge." ~RICHARD STEVENS What will this strange and wonderful place hold for me? For my family? Who will I love to meet? Where will I spend most of my time? What will our home look like? Feel like? How will I deal with being home sick? How will my daughter adapt and grow? Will I have more children there? Is there a local market where I can buy fresh produce that tastes unlike American produce? How much culture can I soak up in 2+ years? Will I never want to leave? Will I find eternal peace and nirvana? Will I have allergies? Will I travel to see the great Buddhist statues? Do they tolerate Americans, hate or love us? Will my husband like it? Will I teach Yoga there? Do Japanese people like Yoga? Who cares! I intend to find all this out. But I really see it as moving to any other place. If we were stationed in Oklahoma I would make the best of it and spread my love for humanity across the states. Here I will spread my love for humanity across the hemispheres. Study a new history to me. Bow to people in gratitude. Study a new language. And I will still be under the same moon as all of my loved ones and friends, so we will still be with you. Many blogs to come...as we go on our first adventure. I have to say a brief and deeply heartfelt message to the life and memory of Matt Freeman. He was a dear high school friend of my husband, Chad. He was a Captain in the Marines. He was shot and killed in Afghanistan. He was a legacy to his community and country. I attended his funeral this past week. I have no recent memory of being this moved. I was moved by military husband's, by my husband, their work, their honor for US and their United States. I could not stop crying and have still not stopped. I had just begun to communicate with Matt's wife who is stationed in Okinawa, where we are to go. I send many, many thoughts of love to his family and wife left behind. God bless.

I Only Ever Blog About What Truly Matters

Ramm Dass' 2001 movie/documentary Fierce Grace has stroked my life once and has returned to me just now.

Last time it was before a big move across the country from Georgia to Utah, where I was to live high atop a mountain almost off the grid at 10,000 feet that the movie found me just before my trek began. Once in Utah, I felt imprisoned. It was the hardest experience of my life. And now, just before my biggest move, internationally, to Japan, the movie found it's way to me once more. I hope to truly digest it this time around. I know I go where I am needed no matter what. I hope though, that this new venture will not be so hard what with my gained knowledge and life experience. The movie teaches us to find grace and supreme strength in even the hardest of conditions.

I believe everyone should watch it. He is one my favorite authors of all time.

He is highly intelligent with his wording.

He is humble and graceful in life and through his experiences.

Inspirational.

Life changing.

This film is important, check it out y'all. (See link below)

NAMASTE

http://www.ramdasstapes.org/vrd-fg.htm

Miracles Happen

It was at my Yoga teacher training certification when I first heard her name. And then just by chance, the law of attraction, God's work in my life or just the simple fact that she is simply SUPPOSED to be in my presence, that I happened upon this amazing woman quite a few more times in the following years.

Her name is Amma. She is the “hugging saint” to many, just a regular Indian saint to others. To some, she has healed their life. To me, she is the proof that miracles exist.

I had just turned 22 and I felt a strange push to go get a Yoga certification. I didn't even feel the least bit ready. I was by no means a Yogic master or Yogini. I had never had and still cannot say that I have worked with a master teacher for a regular period of time within the ancient art and philosophy of Yoga and feel ready to spread the teachings onto the world. But a drive almost completely subconscious in nature made me sign up for that random Yoga teacher training course in Litchfied, Connecticut. I was immature. I could not even do a head stand. I didn't know the first thing about Kirtan or meditating. But I had practiced Yoga for about 4 years, here and there. There were hardly any studios in America at the time. I practiced where I found teachers throughout my travels in the US, I searched for and read Yoga books and I religiously sought out and bought Patricia Walden and Rodney Yee Yoga videos for practicing at home. It was the Iyengar style of Yoga that first spoke to me. I see this as a gift since it is a style that has serious focus on alignment and form. But other than my private and meek practice, I was pretty much clueless. What I did know was I had a fresh and strong desire to learn more and then to pass on this peace to others. I wanted to do good in the world and that is all I knew as a young, college grad.

My first day at the Yoga teacher training consisted of us collecting our large stack of required texts and finding our rooms. We were to each have a roommate, unless we wanted to pay a ridiculous fee to have a private room. And as I signed in, it was apparent to my teacher I had not been assigned a bunk mate. So he said, “well, we will have to put you with one of the instructors,” as I am sure there were only so many rooms to go around and I had not paid that big fee. I recall I felt nervous to be roomed with a great teacher as I was feeling such a novice. But my learned Yoga instructor in Savannah, Hunter Leaf, gave me some wonderful advice as to how to squash that self consciousness. He told me “wherever you go and whatever you do, there will always be someone better than you and who is not as good as you.” And I'll be darned, he was right. From Art college to Yoga instruction, this came to always be true...so who cares! Hunter also taught me to just ask for guidance when I felt scared, from all the saints and sages of the past and present to be with me now. This was amazing advice. So I did. I asked for help and guidance from all those monks on a mountain from far away, from Jesus, from everyone great! Help me! Guide me! Allow me to not make a fool of myself!

My empty room was quaint. There were two beds and two dressers. I began unpacking. I made myself at home for the 3+ week course intensive. Classes began. I had yet to see my roommate. Well into our first day of lectures, my teacher stopped. He waved to someone coming into the back of the conference hall. It was a woman who I will never forget. In the back of our retreat room was a very tall, long blonde hair for miles, smiling face with a totally turquoise traditional Indian get up on, with bells on her ankles, blue, bright, eyes and a truly detoxified glow on her pale, pink cheeks. Lalita. And she was to be my bunk mate.

Lalita was a teacher at our certification who was there for the soul reason to teach about the practice of Kirtan, a form of chant. Some think it is religious chant, but it is not. Simply put: it is devotional music. Music that is like a list of prayers, gratitudes and rejoicing for our existence. It is a call and response style of music and sounds, sung from the heart which are meant to open up all the blocked or clogged energy centers of our body, spirit and mind. Yea, it is cool and I had no idea what it was before meeting Lalita. She was introduced to our class and I thought she was a beautiful and intimidating ray of light.

After class that day, I returned to my room. Lalita followed shortly after me and so did another young and beautiful woman, and fellow student of our class, named Darcy. I said hello to them and they back to me, politely. And they both began shouting in elation within their own conversation. Darcy asked Lalita, “so did you go?” “Yes! I got there in time” Lalita exploded! It was her reason for arriving late to our training. She went on to explain an experience she had just had meeting a woman named Amma. I could not help but listen in our small room. She told of how hundreds of people came from miles and miles and waited in long lines to see her. People came with disease, children who were deformed or missing limbs, poor people seeking wealth, rich people seeking spiritual guidance for their empty souls or meaningless and hopeless lives, and on and on. Tears came to her eyes as she explained what it was like to hug this woman. Lalita explained in great detail the bruise which lay on Amma's cheek from embracing, hugging and squeezing all these people, for all her life, every single day. She pulls each person who comes to see her all over the world on her tours and visits, into her arms, pulls them into her face and gives them a blessing, kisses and loving hug while wiping their tears away. I did not know much more than that about her for some time.

3 or so weeks pass of intensive Yogic training, philosophy classes, 5am meditations, frozen limbs, feet so asleep they prevent walking, joy and tears, nerves and fear and best of all celebration. My relationship with my funny roommate went from happy to odd to confusing to sweet. I was scared of her energy at times. I felt awed by her strong direction and strength. I had no idea what she thought of me. I felt I had offended her at times with my western ways in her eastern mind frame. She quickly told me over a breakfast, I could never upset her, nothing ever makes her mad, nothing bothers her......ever. Hm! Oky doky. I didn't understand her. She was older, much healthier, stronger and wiser than me, that is all I knew. I loved what she had taught us over the month and all in all I felt blessed to have her as my roommate. I felt much luckier to have a Yoga instructor to help me for my final exam than having another student to share a room with!

As a strict rule, we had to be silent after each dinner up until the completion of each breakfast the following morning. It took a load off, I must admit. If you pass someone on the way to the bathroom, no need to say hello for courtesy sake, just peacefully walk by. No needless chatter over breakfast, just consume your well-made, vegetarian food. We were not allowed to talk because it was a group of nuns who rented out this particular retreat center, so we were honoring their stringent Catholic tradition of silent hours. But even Lalita and her morals whispered to me that night before my final exam, “do you have any questions on how to teach your Yoga postures?” How kind I thought, I whispered back and forth with her for a while and she helped me greatly. So being fresh out of art school, I drew her a picture one final night in our quiet room. I left it on her bed and it contained a message of gratitude for her teaching us all and for helping me.

Before I left that crazy retreat, Lalita presented me with a gift back from her happiness with my drawing. In silence she handed me a pendant. It was an Indian coin-type thing. Later I learned it was the image of Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of creativity. And in silence, I gathered from her that Amma had given this to Lalita. And Lalita gave it to me. I cherished this gift. I immediately put it on a necklace and wore it 100% of the time. After a while, I took it off and would only put it on when I felt I needed strength. Like I do with most important and beautiful things, I gave it away about 8 years later to someone who I felt could wear it when she needed strength as well. But there in Connecticut, my deep relationship with Amma began.

I immediately went from my Yoga certification to teaching a class in downtown Providence, Rhode Island. The woman who owned that Yoga studio still is one of my favorite people, Sherri Ryan. She was the first person to hire me to teach and she is a shiatsu massage therapist. While going in one time to receive one of her amazing massages I saw a photo of an Indian woman sitting on her window sill. I asked, “who is this in this photo?” Sherri looked and shouted with glee, “that is Ammachi! My guru.” I thought only Ram Dass and hippies from the 60's had gurus but Sherri did too and she went on and on about Amma. I felt love, I told her about my Yoga certification experience and coin pendant and said I wanted to know more about this woman Amma. She told me amazing things and how she changed her life when she went to go see her and asked for a blessing. It was her experience visiting Amma that guided Sherri to open her own studio and then eventually gave me my first, wonderful place to teach!

After some travels and years later, I decided to leave Sherri's studio and move out west. I went to visit a group of friends from Savannah who now resided in New Mexico. We were sitting around a gorgeous dinner one beautiful Santa Fe evening and a girl who I had never met before started to talk about her recent visit to India. She brought up the name Amma. I stopped her. Elated, I asked, “what was it like to meet her, I have heard so many things?!” The girl simply said, “when I was sitting in an intimate cirlce in front of her, I felt like her skin was my skin.” Enough said. I got it. Amma was amazing and she kept popping into my life. Later that trip, I helped out at a wellness fair and there was a booth dedicated to Amma. I bought a picture of her. I talked with the American women who supported her humanitarian causes and were trying to spread her love and aid awareness to this part of the planet.

I have had her framed picture in my bedroom or meditation areas in each residence I have ever lived. Usually people feel strange when they find that I have a picture of a chubby Indian woman in my space. No one in my life now understands. But looking at her face, it reminds me of the love that she spreads, of who I used to want to be. The more I learn about her the more I know she is speaking to me, she is working in my life and God is present. What Amma stands for is nothing short of God's work.

Later on down the road, when the internet came into my life, I looked up Amma. She is so much more than a woman who hugs hurting people. She aids people with terminal disease. She has received awards from the UN. She fights for woman's rights in third world countries. She visits areas of natural disasters. She builds schools in poor areas. She embraces each and every person who comes to see her. She is a miracle to me. In the past 36 years she has embraced over 26 million people, including me with her life.

“Amma has been fighting world suffering by tirelessly offering hugs.” -New York Times

"She stands here in front of us. God's love in a human body." -Dr. Jane Goodall

Please view this link and experience what we should all strive to be and do. Please view this link and know that miracles do exist.
http://www.amma.org/amma/index.html
Namaste,
Becca

Moving to Okinawa, Volume 1

I am beginning to prepare for the biggest move of my life.

I feel anxiety. I cannot stand moving. I despise moving. Moving my home is very unnatural to me. I have tears. I have to say goodbye to my dog. I have to sell the car I love. The Army will pack all my things, each and every meaningless thing, but I am just getting rid of special collectibles and some of my sweet stone collections because I have grown tired of packing and unpacking them. I am dismal. I am sad. This is not in my nature. I am dark. I am tired. I do not sleep. I feel anxiety. Constant lists in my mind. No energy.

But then my darling daughter makes me smile.

And then I look at a picture of an Okinawan beach.

And I get through another day.