What a Burst Pipe Taught Me About Gratitude

Image courtesy Nick Busse/Flickr.

Recently, a pinprick hole in an old pipe caused a flood in my husband’s office, which also serves as the guest room in our home at the Institute for Humane Education (IHE). Not only were the walls, ceiling, and carpeting ruined, but a huge repair job loomed.

My husband turned off the water to stop the continued flooding, and we called the plumber. They couldn’t do anything until the ceiling was demolished, which would enable them to get to the pipe that was the culprit. The plumber recommended a local mold mitigation company, and they were able to come over within two hours. Several really nice, really hard-working guys worked all afternoon and the next morning to solve the problem, and the plumber came back and fixed the leak so that we had water again in our home.

Another friend (who is a builder and who turned our old barn into a guesthouse for the students at IHE using found and recycled materials) came out right away to take measurements for replacing the flooring.

Meanwhile, the mold mitigation people have been talking to our insurance company on our behalf.

Meanwhile, my husband’s work as a veterinarian is flexible enough that he was able to get home from work to clear out his room and minimize the damage.

That night when we sat down to eat dinner and held hands for our nightly ritual, during which we share something for which we are grateful, I realized how tremendously grateful I felt for all the wonderful people who made what could have felt like a disaster not such a big deal.

It’s gratifying to feel gratitude, to know that in the midst of what might otherwise feel overwhelming and terribly upsetting, I can actually feel appreciation and thanks as my dominant emotions. That’s what I learned from our burst pipe.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm; Above All, Be Kind; and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@CEHS “How to Be a Solutionary”

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The Best Time of Day is Right Now

 Ruby & Herschel snuggle on the bed.
Image copyright Zoe Weil.

Every night when I climb into bed, our dogs and cat are already there or quickly join me. Elsie snuggles up on the pillows; Hershel scratches and chews on the blanket (naughty dog!), excited that we’re all together to turn in after another good day, and Ruby splays herself out, taking up as much room as possible (sigh). Sir Simon, our cat, walks up to my head and meows, asking me to lift up the covers so he can climb under them for about 10 minutes before he scoots out to sleep on the foot of the bed. I feel such a sense of joy each night when I get into bed. And I think to myself, “This is the best part of every day.”

Then I wake up, and as I’m coming to consciousness – awake but not yet mobile – Elsie immediately either jumps on the bed, or if she’s spent the whole night with us, scoots up so that her face is inches from mine. She stares into my eyes and puts a paw on my arm as if to say, “Good morning.” And good it is, waking up to Elsie, as well as to the curled up fluffball Hershel and our sprawled out silky Ruby. And I think to myself, “This is the best part of every day.”

As I reflect upon these thoughts, I realize that the best time of the day is the one right now, if only I can just live with as much appreciation, love, and gratitude as I do each morning and night.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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Saying Yes to No Regrets

Image courtesy of ancient history
via Creative Commons.

Sometimes I regret the things I do. Far more often I regret the things I don’t do. And so I’ve encouraged myself to say yes to things, even when I think my proverbial plate is full.

I used to have a rule about traveling for work: no more than one week per month; more than that and I would start to feel overwhelmed. But since my first TEDx talk came out two years ago, I’ve been invited to speak in various and far flung places far more frequently than once a month. I do still have my limits, but I’ve stretched them and have found that as long as I stay in the present moment and don’t think ahead (or go over in my mind how many different cities I’ll be in each month), I do fine.

And I try to do the same at home, too, by saying yes to opportunities to adventure more, connect more, and experience more. But when evening rolls around and I’m warm and cozy next to my husband on the couch, it takes a lot to rouse me to adventure. And so in a subtle way I say no quite often. I live at the Institute for Humane Education, which is situated on 28 acres on Patten Bay in coastal Maine. It takes only 10 minutes to walk to the ocean, but I seldom venture out at night, except in summer, even though that’s when I’m most likely to see wildlife, hear owls, and have the chance to marvel at the stars and glimpse a meteor.

Tonight, after dinner, my husband noticed just how bright it was outside. Yesterday was our first snowfall of the season. The full moon was rising and the house cast a shadow on the white snow. I knew this was a night I had to say yes to.

So picture this: every fairy tale, every children’s picture book of woods and meadows under a moonlit night; a world that looks as if diamond dust were strewn upon every inch so that each step becomes a kaleidoscope of sparkles; shadows so distinct that you could cut them out like paper dolls; deep snow, tiring to traverse, the effort keeping you warm on the cold night; the path in the woods, normally wide, now a maze from laden branches bowed down; ducking under spruce boughs so heavy with snow they form caves and igloos; coming back upon the meadow on the return and having it feel like a sports arena at night, blazed with light.

Now imagine how you would feel on such a walk on a moonlit night in winter.

Saying yes to opportunities and adventures, as well as to the discomfort and effort such yeses often bring, is my way of saying yes to awe, love, joy, purpose, and ultimately life. It’s my way of ensuring I live with few regrets.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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Joy and Wonder at the Detroit Airport

Image courtesy random letters via Creative Commons.

I travel on average about a week each month for work, which means I spend a lot of time in airports. Travel has become more and more challenging and unpleasant (crowded planes and tighter seats, delays, hours spent on runways, meager food service even on long trips, etc.), but the airports themselves have become more and more pleasant and accommodating. LaGuardia has a huge salad bar with lots of options for vegans like me; chair massage spas are popping up all over; and free wifi and charging stations are expanding, making it possible to work during layovers and not have my computer run out of battery power.

It’s because of these changes that I don’t mind long layovers. They’re less stressful than short layovers, during which I’m too often running a mile through a terminal with my backpack on and my wheeled suitcase behind me saying, “Excuse me! Excuse me!” as I race to make a tight connection.

Recently, I had a long layover at the Detroit Airport, which is my favorite airport in the U.S. Why? Because of two artistic additions. In the atrium in the very middle of the airport there is a fountain that I could stare at for hours. The plumes of water are like dancers, beautifully and surprisingly choreographed. But it is the tunnel connecting Terminal A to Terminals B and C that often fills me with joy and wonder. Joy and wonder? In an airport?!

As one descends the long escalator to the tunnel, one is greeted by a music and light show. The translucent walls of the tunnel are designed to look like a cross between a seascape, a mountainscape, and a cloudscape, and behind the walls are ever-changing lights in a rainbow of colors. Choreographed to the music, the lights illuminate the walls and ceiling, undulating, moving, dancing. It is a gorgeous work of art.

So when I am not in a rush, I stand still on the moving walkway and just watch. And no matter how far I have traveled, how long or arduous the journey, or whether I have spent a night in an airport hotel because I’ve missed a connection somewhere, I always smile.

I’m aware that the tunnel may be using more electricity than if it were simply lit with fluorescent lights. I’m aware that such extra use of energy takes its toll; but I appreciate that the planners of this airport thought to bring art into our experience, and that this art makes a world of difference.

Yes, I experience joy and wonder in the Detroit airport. Imagine that.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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The Fall Harvest

Image copyright Zoe Weil.

It’s quite a lot of work growing food. And sometimes the results aren’t as expected. I’ve stopped growing corn after losing the entire crop two years in a row to a hungry bear; and I still haven’t managed to grow good-sized onions. There are the hours and hours of preparation and weeding, harvesting and storing. Sometimes there is even the guilt-inducing “problem” of abundance, when a home gardener knows she can’t eat it all but then has to figure out how to get the surplus to people who need it before it goes bad (which is why I’ve stopped growing zucchini).

And then there is the question that I hear in my mind every year when I have so much work to do (my real work – saving the world through humane education), yet my garden requires my attention: “Is this the best use of your time, Zoe?” After all, there are farmers’ markets I can visit, and my food co-op I can support. Why do I feel so compelled to grow food?

I grow food because it’s powerful and magical to tend the soil; to put tiny seeds in careful rows; to thin the seedlings so that each has space to grow; to week after week pull out those plants that are crowding the crops, and to watch over several months as bare earth turns into a spectacular, outrageous, crowded 900 square feet of huge quantities of… food.

Image copyright Zoe Weil.

I’m lucky to live in a rural area where land is plentiful, but even when I lived in a row house in Philadelphia, I grew food in the postage-sized back “yard.” And friends in inner city neighborhoods have converted squalid, abandoned lots with compacted, glass-filled, trash-covered ground into bountiful, productive gardens.

Hundreds of generations of humans have turned wild plants into cultivated, flavorful, nutritious masterpieces called carrots, beets, kale, broccoli, chard, beans, asparagus, kohlrabi, squash, cabbage, and so many other vegetables. So if you can, grow a radish or a big pot of tomatoes. It’s not easy. But it’s worth it.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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In Praise of Science & Education: Why Sandy’s Death Toll Wasn’t Worse

Image courtesy of CasualCapture via Creative Commons.

It may seem inappropriate, perhaps a bit crazy, to talk about what went right with superstorm Sandy, but I’ve been struck by how much worse things could have been were it not for the confluence of many good people and many good systems.

It is tragic that several dozen people have died from this storm, and I realize that the death toll has increased each day since the storm and likely will increase further. There are millions without power; there are elderly in high rises who cannot get help, heat, food, or water. But Sandy was a massive storm affecting tens of millions of people in the most populated region of the U.S., and the number of people who have died in the U.S. from this storm is smaller than the number who died from car accidents during the same time period. How is that possible given the magnitude of this storm?

A week prior to Sandy’s landfall, meteorologists predicted the storm’s path with an astonishing degree of accuracy. Sandy was called a “Frankenstorm” for a reason. It was influenced by Arctic air to the north and a cold front and storm to the northwest. Yet the scientists were right on the mark. And because they were, people could prepare. There was time for evacuations; time for sandbagging; time for boarding up buildings; time for Con Edison in New York City to turn off the power to lower Manhattan before the storm did more damage that would delay the eventual return of the subways; time for the Red Cross and FEMA and political leaders in the affected states to prepare and address the worst case scenario. The worst case scenario actually came to pass with the confluence of tide, full moon, wind direction, and Sandy’s landfall. And yet, it could have been so much worse. Far more people could have died.

If this is not a wake up call to deeply, fully embrace education and science I don’t know what is. The scientists proved themselves worthy of our respect and gratitude. And if this is not a wake up call to heed scientists’ warnings about climate change I also don’t know what is. Let’s not forget how much we owe those teachers who trained those scientists; the federal money that has supported their work; and the peer review process that ensures that what is published and shared by scientists is as accurate as possible. Scientists are not perfect, and meteorology and climate science will always be unpredictable, but this is the best we have. In Sandy’s case, we’re lucky we had it.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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How Do You Want to Live Your 30,000 Days on Earth?

Almost eight years ago, I read the book, Naikan, by Gregg Krech, director of the ToDo Institute in Vermont. Naikan is a Japanese form of self-reflection which focuses on three questions:

1) What have I received from _________?
2) What have I given _________?
3) What troubles or difficulties have I caused ________?

You can fill in the blank with just about anyone or anything. I’ve filled it in with individuals in my life, including close family members and friends; with things like air or water or trees; and, most often, with the simple concept of “today.” I find the practice powerful and transformative, providing a true reckoning of my choices and actions and an opportunity for experiencing greater gratitude and greater awareness.

No sooner had I finished the book than I contacted the author and we arranged a time to meet. We met both at his home/institute with his wonderful family and a few months later at my home/institute, again with his family. We’ve stayed in touch, but years have passed since we’ve seen one another.

I’ve continued to teach about Naikan through my writing and our graduate programs, and now I’m thrilled that Gregg has invited me to be a keynote speaker at the ToDo Institute’s Thirty Thousand Days conference August 2-5 in Burlington, Vermont. Thirty thousand days refers to the average amount of time each of us has on earth, and the conference is sure to be a powerful couple of days of talks, workshops, music, and film, all designed to help us live meaningfully, humanely, sustainably, and joyfully in the time given us.

There’s still room to attend. I hope to see some readers of this blog at this exciting event!

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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This is Our Moment in the Sun

In the most recent issue of The Sun magazine, there’s an interview with Ran Ortner, an ocean landscape artist. It’s a powerful and thought-provoking interview, and in it Ortner says this: “… we come with an expiration date. We already know we’re going to break down and crash. There’s something liberating about that. This is our moment in the sun. Let’s dance.”

There are countless quotes about life and death; about our mortality; about living life to the fullest, but this one struck me — perhaps because Ortner describes our mortality as liberating. We are free to embrace our moment in the sun largely because it is just that: a moment.

In her poem, “The Summer Day,” Mary Oliver ends with this provocative question: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do/ with your one wild and precious life?”

Wild and precious. Our moment in the sun. Our time to dance.

What does it mean to dance? What does it mean to plan to do something? To me, this combination of celebrating life (what else is dance but such a celebration?) and planfulness is key to seizing our moment in the sun; the recipe for a life of meaning and purpose and joy. Recognizing our brief moment in the sun and “dancing” our lives is a path toward living in the present moment, fully alive, fully grateful, fully here. And recognizing that there are things to do, things to plan for this brief time offers a path toward meaning and purpose without which the setting sun may come upon us one day and catch us unawares with regret for what we did or didn’t do.

Each of us has a contribution to make, and many of our contributions take time to hone and cultivate, years of preparation and study and hard work. Can we find that balance in which we live fully in the present, fulfilling the plans we make to ensure that to the best of our ability our moment in the sun is worthy of our talents, passions, and dreams? Can we dance with abandon even as we craft the vision of our lives and follow our course steadfastly? There’s no contradiction here; rather we can find in this seeming paradox the liberation I believe Ortner speaks of.

For each wild and precious life,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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An Open Thank You Letter to Teachers

For my blog post today, I wanted to share my latest essay published at Common Dreams, a progressive news site. Here’s an excerpt from “An Open Thank You Letter to Teachers”:

“Dear Teachers,

Another school year is over, and there’s a good chance you haven’t been thanked for another year’s hard work. That might actually be quite an understatement. Not only may you have failed to receive real appreciation for your work, your salary and benefits may have been cut while your hours were increased. You may have had more students to teach and more requirements to fulfill. You may not even be sure you’ll be teaching next fall, depending upon budget cuts, even though you are a good and dedicated teacher.

… So if you haven’t received the thanks you deserve, I want to thank you publicly now. And by “you” I mean those teachers who love to teach and do so with all their heart and soul to provide their students with what is important and necessary and inspiring and beautiful and meaningful and true and good and honest. I mean those teachers who care about kids and empower them and ignite their passions and help them achieve their big dreams. I mean those teachers who demand that their students question everything, including what they themselves teach, to ensure that they become the best critical and creative thinkers they can be. I mean those teachers who listen and care. I mean those teachers who are passionate about the subjects they teach and who cannot help but impart that passion.”

Read the complete essay.

For a world full of solutionaries,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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The Last Beet for Mother’s Day

Image courtesy of sean dreilinger via Creative Commons.

I’m writing this post on Mother’s Day, which is one of those days that’s complicated for me. On the one hand, I don’t like being manipulated by a Hallmark holiday – a day created to sell products. On the other hand, I do like having a day each year that I can consider special. It’s always been a great opportunity to do something fun with my husband and son. But my son no longer lives at home, and so now I find myself full of expectations around this fake holiday that set me up for silly hopes and even sillier disappointments.

I returned home last night after a 7-hour drive and several days away. When I awoke, the day was full of possibility. We could drive to a favorite spot we love to visit at this time of year when the fiddlehead ferns emerge, and hike a 10-mile loop with the dogs; but after such a long drive the day before, I wasn’t up for what would be a fairly long drive again. We could canoe, but the dogs wouldn’t like that as much. As I considered the possibilities I ventured outside, where I was confronted by the enormity of work that needed to be done in the garden and around the house. Already, the garden is full of weeds. The dandelions around it are in bloom, and much as I love them, are threatening to seed the entire garden. Our small pet grave area also needed weeding and tending. Plus the big projects that await us, like blazing a new trail through the woods.

So instead of venturing away, I got to work in the garden, and I wondered, as I periodically do, about whether it was worth all this work. So much work! Theoretically, I love that I grow so much of my family’s food, but practically, I sometimes think I should just go to the farmers’ markets or join a CSA instead. It’s hours and hours every week tending the garden. I remind myself that if I enjoy it; if it’s a good break from my primary work in Humane Education, then of course I should do it. But it’s often more a chore than a labor of love. As I weeded around the beet seedlings that I had planted a month ago, noticing that there were way more weeds than seedlings, and as the black flies started biting me, I thought, It’s time to go do something else – at least today, on Mother’s Day.

And then I went inside and stopped to check the big trash can of vermiculite in which I store our beets during the fall and winter; and lo and behold, there was a perfect beet at the very bottom, the last one from last year’s garden. I remembered the juice I made all last fall, mixing a beet and carrots and pears and apples – all from our garden and property. I recalled how delicious and beautiful that juice was. I looked forward to cutting up this big remaining beet for our salads at dinner, and I remembered why I grow food. Finding that beet was a lovely Mother’s Day treat – reminding me that tending my garden is worth it. So we’ll do some more work around the house today. And then, we’ll take those dogs on a walk in the woods and be a good mom to them, too.

For a humane world,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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