Many of you aren’t on social media or you’re trying to cut back (especially with the information overload of COVID-19). I support these efforts. Still, I want my Facebook posts—shorter messages —to be accessible to everyone. Each month, I’ll create a digest. Take your time, there’s no rush. Let yourself rest in these photographs and words:

March 26

Within myself, I've noticed signs of stress: pangs of fear (in unexpected ways), sleep disruption, working too hard without breaks (wanting to help in copious ways). I see this in others, too. We have this amazing societal pause—a chance to slow down, consider what's most important, and reconnect with ourselves—yet we're experiencing natural human emotions, like anxiety, and we're adjusting to a "new normal" that’s unlike anything we've seen before. There's space for creativity and vision yet our physical choices are limited. We're on a collective retreat yet we have big, primal energy that needs to move through us.

This is a time of awakening! We're trying to find ease within discomfort. We're being real about what's happening yet also remembering the amazing good that surrounds us. As Pema Chodron wrote, "This moment is the perfect teacher." We sit with what's wondrous and heartbreaking; uneasy and hopeful. Everything belongs in this uncertain, precious, beautiful life.

PS: During our evening walk, Mark and I saw hopscotch instructions chalked on the sidewalk. I dove in: hopping, following a spiral, doing the moonwalk(!), and then hopping again. Playfulness amid seriousness. Everything belongs.

March 29

I give away you-are-beautiful stickers in my classes, tucked within restaurant bills or tip jars, and lovingly placed in postal mail. I receive 31 stickers each month, ready to be gifted and shared.

Here in Appleton, political signs populate yards. As the April 7 election approaches, more signs decorate yards and compete with each other. Though I understand the fervor—I felt empowered when I mailed my absentee ballot yesterday—I don’t post election signs.

Instead, I ordered a different yard sign: You Are Beautiful. If you’re walking or driving by South Story street in Appleton, look for the silver sign that announces you’re beautiful. Everyone is included. We’re in this together. All of us imperfect, messy, tender, complicated, vulnerable, and brave. Please remember: You are beautiful.

March 31

I’m on board with the CDC recommendations. We must physically separate and distance, as an act of love. This is vital for our communities. Interestingly, I’ve noticed social distancing in email messages: “Safe hugs” or “Virtual hugs” or “Love from a 6-foot distance.” Perhaps this is people being playful (or maybe overly serious), but I have a different message: In this virtual land, let’s love all over each other! Let’s spread hugs unabashedly. Let’s spread love and compassion and care. Let’s remember the importance of human touch, so when it’s safe again, we can appreciate the hugs even more.

April 2

Today was the first serious hint of spring: sunshine and warm air. For hours, I removed leaves from my backyard flower beds. To be outside, but also to reconnect with my yard, the earth, and nature. Underneath the wet leaves were little shoots of green. Many of them were mildly sad (yellow not quite green, looking for sunshine). They were sprouting up, wanting to live, yet held back by layers of protective covering.

This reminds me of us. All of us, in isolation and adjusting to a weird new normal. We want to grow and spring forth, yet we feel a little translucent and tender. Still, this is a time of awakening. If we’re brave enough, we shed the layers of protection—push off wet leaves; remove judgmental thoughts—and open our hearts to love and compassion. While we cannot be physically together, it’s vital not to close our hearts. Let your little green shoots sprout up from the earth. Allow your mind, heart, and body to come alive. Love, light, and compassion—even from a distance—will guide us forward.