Barbara Brown Taylor is a New York Times bestselling author, professor, and Episcopal priest. She has served on the faculty of Piedmont College as the Butman Professor of Religion and Philosophy since 1998, and has released such widely praised books as Leaving Church and Learning to Walk in the Dark. In this episode of Insights at the Edge, Barbara and Tami Simon speak about appreciating the power of divine absence as well as divine presence. They talk about the value of becoming familiar with darkness and a “lunar spirituality” inspired by walking beneath the light of the moon. Finally, Tami and Barbara discuss the modern predilection toward busyness and how a dedicated Sabbath day can help alleviate the stress of everyday life. (54 minutes)
Theresa Reed is a recognized expert in the field of Tarot reading who writes, speaks, podcasts, and coaches on the subject. With Sounds True she has released The Tarot Coloring Book, a full-length reference to the imagery and importance of the classic Rider Waite deck that doubles as an engaging coloring experience. In this episode of Insights at the Edge, Tami Simon and Theresa discuss the heart of Tarot and how it’s not simply a passive tool. They speak on the concept of adult coloring books and whyThe Tarot Coloring Book reinforces learning with fun and imagination. Finally, Theresa performs two live readings and interprets their results in the light the current situation in our world. (52 minutes)
Somatic Abolitionism is a living, embodied anti-racist practice, a form of culture building, and a way of being in the world. In this immersive audio workshop, Resmaa Menakem presents ten sessions of insights and body-based practices to help listeners liberate themselves—and all of us—from racialized trauma and the strictures of white-body supremacy.
Listen to the first 15 minutes of this audio program:
This is an adapted excerpt from You, Me, Us and Racialized Trauma by Resmaa Menakem.
You, Me, Us, and Racialized Trauma
Somatic Abolitionism is a living, embodied anti-racist practice, a form of culture building, and a way of being in the world. In an immersive audio workshop, Resmaa Menakem presents ten sessions of insights and body-based practices to help listeners liberate themselves—and all of us—from racialized trauma and the strictures of white-body supremacy.
START HERE . . .
I’m starting with love. I’m starting with breath.
I’m starting with stretching my body that carries me despite the aches.
I’m starting with a hand over my heart. I’m starting with forgiveness.
I’m starting with a clean slate.
I’m starting with a cup of tea and a crisp new page. I’m starting with a tearful release.
I’m starting with wind on my face and gratitude on my lips. I’m starting with my eyes up, not down.
Today, life is calling me to take my own path— Go at my own pace,
Stop when needed,
Notice the signs, people, and sights meant for me. Today, life is calling me to show up—
And I take this brave step by declaring . . . Love is where I’m starting. May it also be where I am going. Love IS the way.
Ever since I recovered Google Island, the book I wrote as a child, I’ve been making an intentional effort to connect with that younger version of me, the one I now call “my Dreamer Girl.”
This was the “me” who knew at a very early age that lovingly respond- ing to myself and those around me brought me joy. Over the past few years, I’ve spent time remembering what my Dreamer Girl was like.
She couldn’t walk by a stray cat without talking to it.
She marveled at the sounds she made with her violin and bow.
She loved the rush of the wind when she swung as high as she could go.
She freely ran through the sprinkler in her bathing suit, unhindered by her squarish body that held an abundance of freckles.
And most of all, my Dreamer Girl’s joy was found in filling spiral notebooks with observations, stories, and dreams.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when I decided these inclinations were not acceptable and therefore needed to be abandoned. I’m pretty sure it was during adolescence when I began assuming the roles that gained the world’s approval—roles like the Planner, the Go-Getter, the Accommodator, the Helper, and the Overachiever—and when accolades took precedence over pleasure.
And those roles were just the beginning. In the twenty or so years that followed, I took on so many roles and expectations that it should have come as no surprise when it all became too heavy to bear.
But it did. I can still see myself at my breaking point—the teacher, the partner, the mother, the daughter, the sister, the volunteer, the completist, the juggler, the people-pleaser, the fixer, all simultane- ously coming undone during a morning jog, my well-crafted roles unraveling so quickly I didn’t even try to hold myself together.
Fueling my breakdown was a question I got a lot: “How do you do it all?” I’d always taken it as a compliment, but not on this particular day. At thirty-eight years old, I’d reached the very frayed end of myself, and that question loomed before me, forcing me to stop and face the answer I’d been running from.
I could “do it all” because I missed out on life—I missed out on the laughing, the playing, the creating, the connecting, the memory mak- ing . . . the living . . . the loving . . . and what I missed I cannot get back.
That truth was so gut-wrenching, I was forced to stop. I collapsed to my knees and I wept for all that I’d lost and the desolate place I was in. It was then and there that I decided to tell the truth. Looking back now,
I realize the significance of that response. For once, I did not push the pain and discomfort away. I allowed myself to feel it, to let truth enlight- en me, which is why tears of despair turned into tears of relief.
I’d lost my connection with my Dreamer Girl, the tree climber, the notebook filler, the music maker, the seed planter—but she was not gone. Oh no, she was still with me, in here, hand over heart.
I just needed some time . . . space . . . and permission to reconnect with her.
Dear Soul Shift Companion, does that thought resonate with you? Because here’s the reality: as we grow further and further away from childhood, the demands and stress of life increase. We forget we have the power to say yes to what delights our heart and soul, makes us feel alive, and brings us peace. But in order to live an au- thentic, joyful, and purposeful life, we must remember how to say yes to those very things!
We can do it through the Practice of Presence—an intentional choice to temporarily push away distractions and be fully present in the mo- ments of our life.
Within hours of my emotional morning run, I made this choice for myself.
I was in the middle of making lunches. My younger daughter, Avery, who was almost four years old at the time, was on the sofa watching The Lion King. My computer was open, the phone was buzzing, and I was thinking about all the things I needed to do that day. In that moment, I looked up and noticed—really noticed—my child. A clear voice inside me said, “Go be with her. There is nothing more import- ant right now.”
Without closing the bag of bread or looking at the clock, I placed the knife across the jar of peanut butter and went to hold my child.
What happened next was something no one had ever done in my whole life: my daughter brought my hand to her lips and gently kissed
the inside of my palm, as if offering a silent but powerful acknowledg- ment of my presence.
This is remarkable, I thought. Tears filled my eyes.
I was so grateful I did not miss that moment and knew I didn’t want to miss any more.
This strong desire to not miss my life is what sparked my Practice of Presence.
Of course, at the time, I did not know it would become my Practice of Presence . . . I called it “going hands free,” a term that was inspired by that kiss-on-the-hand moment.
It might sound contradictory to the process, but being a planner, I needed a plan. Realistically, I knew I could not overhaul my life, give up technology, or abandon all my duties and responsibilities, but that initial response I made to heed the inner voice demonstrated it was possible and practical for me to dedicate small increments of time to just being present.
As an experienced teacher of students with behavioral issues and low self-esteem, I knew the impact of small, achievable steps in creating new, positive pathways. Change begins with a behavioral action, and when you change your behavior, your perspective starts to shift, too.
So, I started with ten-minute periods of time during which I set aside my phone, computer, and agenda to be fully present and open to connection.
It was impossible not to notice how one choice produced a ripple of positive outcomes. For example, after opening my pop-up chair at my older daughter’s swim meet, I chose not to get out my work in an attempt to maximize the free time. Seeing my open lap and available attention, Avery asked if she could sit there. Holding her made me feel at peace and connected to her. When the meet was delayed, I did not fly off the handle because my plan was derailed. Instead, my daughters and I went and asked the coach how we could help, which he seemed to appreciate.
We got home later than expected that night, but I hadn’t yelled or felt that internal pressure . . . which resulted in my falling asleep without
the pain of regret. With one choice to be fully present, a series of mean- ingful experiences were created, lasting far beyond a solitary moment.
As I continued to practice choosing connective presence over pro- ductivity, efficiency, distraction, and control, I realized that a feeling of peace consistently came along with that choice; it was as if I was receiving an internal message of encouragement from my soul that said, This feels in line with how I want to live.
Now, does this mean that from this point on life was rainbows and
butterflies? Absolutely not. The damaging habits and beliefs I’d car- ried for decades were deeply ingrained, and life continued to deliver unexpected challenges. So, naturally, there were times when I didn’t choose a loving, compassionate, or healthy response to conflicts or big feelings. But . . . I was practicing.
And here was the difference: when I encountered a painful exter- nal clue—a wounded expression, a troubling comment, an upsetting memory, an uneasy feeling—I did not push it away. The difference was . . . I acknowledged it. I allowed myself to feel my response to the discomfort without judgment, so it could be used as information to lead and enlighten me.
Because of this willingness to be present for it all—the remarkable moments and the mundane moments, the peaceful moments and the uncomfortable moments—I was able to move from the painful truth of I am missing my life to a new, healing truth:
Rachel Macy Stafford is the New York Times bestselling author of Hands Free Mama, Hands Free Life, Only Love Today, and Live Love Now. Rachel is a certified special education teacher whose personal strategies are universal invitations to embrace life with urgency and cultivate connection despite the distractions of our culture. Her blog and social media platform are sources of inspiration to millions. For more, visit handsfreemama.com.
The Author Sarah Jane Hinder is a yoga and mindfulness teacher and the illustrator of several bestselling children’s picture books, including Good Night Yoga and Good Morning Yoga. She is also the author and illustrator of Hello, Sun! and the bestselling yoga board book series that includes Yoga Bug, Yoga Bear, Yoga Whale, and Yoga Bunny for children. Sarah lives in Manchester, England. For more information, visit sarahjanehinder.com.
The Book Whimsical and playful, Hello, Moon! is both a celebration of the night sky and an introduction to the joys of yoga, teaching children ages 4–8 to breathe, stretch, and relax through yoga poses to wind down at the end of the day.
What was your favorite book as a child?
Alice in Wonderland, written by Lewis Carroll and illustrated by John Tenniel, has to be my favorite book as a child. I loved how the White Rabbit was always late, the hilarious Mad Hatter’s tea party, and how Alice would grow and shrink by eating the Caterpillar’s toadstool.
I loved that Alice was brave and strong, overcoming her fears and solving problems by herself. She meets so many wonderful creatures throughout her imaginative and fantastical journey. I used to dream about meeting the Caterpillar and the Cheshire Cat and always wanted to save the Dormouse from the teapot. I love a story where the character grows (literally) and learns from her experiences.
Send us a photo of you and your pet, and let us know if your pet had any role in helping you write your book!
I have two Chihuahuas, who are my artist’s assistants, Paul and Alice. They are always by my side, in front of my face, or standing on my artwork or laptop.
Paul has actually been a co-illustrator on one of my book covers, Good Night Yoga.
When my art was propped against the wall, Paul decided to put his paw in my paint palette. He then trotted over to my illustration and pawed paint over it. He likes to get involved, much to my dismay! They also both love to join me during Savasana by standing on my chest and giving me lots of kisses.
Has your book taken on a new meaning in the world’s current circumstances? Is there anything you would have included in your book if you were writing it now?
There has been more awareness of the importance of mental health in children since the pandemic. Social connection is very important, especially in early childhood, yet children are being isolated from one another. Avoiding each other through fear greatly increases stress in a child.
Yoga and mindfulness can help children develop connections within themselves, using their mind, body, and breath to reduce levels of stress and anxiety.
Hello, Moon! delivers a gentle sequence of yoga poses, moon salutations, to calm and soothe the body before bedtime, a time when fears can appear.
When writing Hello, Moon!, I included a Moon Meditation; however, there wasn’t enough room within the 32 pages of a picture book to include it. I will be adding this as a free resource on my website as a bedtime companion to the picture book.
Only a few months ago, I received word that a dear friend’s child had been tragically killed in a car accident. Although I have worked with hundreds of bereaved people in my 38 years as a grief counselor, I felt worried as I went to be with my friend. “What will I say to this dear man about his loss?”
Then I remembered: “I don’t need to be anxious about the right thing to say. My purpose as his friend is to be present for whatever he might need.”
Supporting someone in their grief is a tall order if ever there was one. How, exactly, do you show true compassion for a grieving person? Here are a few ideas I mention in my new book, Getting Grief Right:
Simply and sincerely say: “I’m very sorry.”
No more words are necessary. Really.
Show up at the house, visitation, or funeral; express simple words of sorrow; and then let the mourning person dictate what happens next.
She may open her arms for a hug, or she may clearly want to keep people at a distance. He may want to talk about his loss or about baseball. Be with them wherever they are.
Just simply be with that person and be compassionate.
Being with a person in grief is a unique, one-way intimacy. Don’t try to fix it or make him or her feel better.
Listen with your eyes and respond with nods that convey, “I get it.”
Laugh with them when it’s time to laugh. Cry if tears come.
And remember, even after the last casserole dish is picked up, many who mourn feel forgotten.
Bring a meal on the two-month anniversary of the death.
Take your friend to coffee six months after the death and listen carefully to what they share about their story of loss.
Speak the name often of the one who died.
Donate to a relevant memorial at the year anniversary of the death or on the birthday of the one who died.
I hope these ideas will help you to create a compassionate community for those who you know are grieving.
The Book
