Every twelve years, during the year of the monkey, a twenty-five day Buddhist celebration is held at the Hemis Monastery in Ladakh, India. Over 8,000 pilgrims travel from as far away as Burma to hear the teachings of venerable Buddhist leaders.

These are the true followers of the Buddha, the peasants, the farmers, the indigent. These devotees came to Leh in droves. They included the hobbling elderly, infants attached to their mothers breasts, and novice monks, giddy with excitement.

Even though this was a huge gathering, there were no real provisions for the throngs of people. A make-shift open tent shielded them from the glaring sun and swirling dust, that was their only protection. Thousands made the grueling trek to finally rest upon the hardened earth, and camp under the stars to receive the teachings of Buddha.

As I humbly walked through the crowd, I saw whole families listening intently to the speakers. The elderly spinning prayer wheels, young mother's with babies swaddled in their arms, fathers keeping a watchful eye on toddlers, and teenagers, with no electronic devices, all attentive and respectful.

Twelve women with metal pots walked amongst the crowd doling out handfuls of cold rice to the hungry. The famished graciously received the rice with open, filthy palms. The offering was quickly devoured.

How is it possible that in a crowd of 8,000 people I could not hear a baby cry, nor one complaint about the lack of seating, lack of refreshments, or wi-fi? What does that say about their culture? What does that say about ours?

I believe the 8,000 attendees understood the Buddha's teachings, for they exemplified tolerance, contentment and compassion, the core values of Buddhism. These were the true followers of Buddha. They did not need golden statues, silk meditation cushions, exotic incense or candles, they had their faith, and that alone made them rich.

Live in color,
Abby

Life without reference points; that is what India is.

The comparison between my favorite children's classic, Alice in Wonderland and India is undeniable. Alice fell down the rabbit hole where her perspective was immediately altered. Stepping off the plane at the New Delhi airport did not feel much different.

​In India, like Wonderland, colors are more vivid, sounds are amplified, and smells are intoxicating. The term sensory overload only touches upon your experience.

To truly grasp what India offers you must, like Alice, be curious and fearless. You need to leave your metropolitan vanities behind and be ready for an adventure of a lifetime. To savor its richness you must abandon your need for order, cleanliness and sanity. It is only then that you may begin to make sense of the madness.

​New Delhi has a youthful energy. Walking the streets you are reminded of a society that was once slow to embrace technology. Each street has a hanging maze of electrical wires that resemble a ball of yarn after a cat has had his way with it. But a glance down any sketchy alleyway and you find trendy shops, and big-deal cocktail dens that put Brooklyn hipster mixologists to shame. The convergence of the old and new is off-putting, and fascinating.

Then there is the traffic. Traffic lights, blinkers, and double white lines only seem to be suggestions. The traffic is nothing more than a free-for-all, yet driving in the mayhem for two weeks, I did not witness a single accident.

Just as Alice had experienced people, places, and things she never saw before, she endured because she remained open to the adventure, and became curiouser and curiouser.

​Traveling out of Delhi, into the mystical mountains of the Himalaya's presented yet another Wonderland. The first obstacle that you confront is the altitude, soaring to 10,000+ feet. Even the seasoned traveler's pace grinds to a halt. Fatigue, shortness of breath, and sleepiness consume you. The only prescription, rest. When your strength returns, it is then time to navigate the steep and craggy streets.

The Himalayas are the last stronghold of the Tibetan culture. Buddhism is pervasive. It is no mystery why this rugged region was chosen by the Dali Lama as the hillside home of the Tibetan government in exile. Beyond the isolation and the terrain, the altitude forces you to slow down to a snail's pace. Walking at such an extreme altitude is no longer about getting from point A to B. Walking becomes an unhurried, intentional meditation.

This slower pace reveals a cast of characters similar to the ones Alice found in her Wonderland. I encountered monks draped in crimson robes, nuns with freshly shaven heads, grinning Indian shopkeepers, dazed travelers lost in their phantasmagorical trip, Sikh's balancing orange turbans on their heads, and me, a curious blonde, trying to make sense of it all.

It was then Alice's Wonderland and my India, merged. Both were enchanted quests where the characters were eccentric, the conventionality of life gave way to the bizarre, and the usual and predictable took a back seat to the improbable.

​Alice returned home from her adventure a changed person, as did I, and curiously we shared the same lessons.

India is a wild and unpredictable land, where the extremes of life are embraced. For me, living without reference points, for my two week adventure was exhilarating and intoxicating.

If Alice taught us anything it is, one need not jump on a plane to an exotic location to find a wild adventure, one needs only to remain curious and fearless, for that is where you will find your wonderland.

​Live in color,
Abby

Heaven was all aflutter on the evening of September 10th 2016.

Angels were giddy with themselves, giving each other high fives. What brought about this celestial excitement? A special earthbound delivery was made to a very eager and mildly apprehensive, expectant couple.

The angels in charge of baby placement take their job very seriously. Day in and day out, baby orders are meticulously filled. However, on this particular morning, they received a special order stamped with the highest priority. Every generation or two, Heaven's BP team (baby placement) receive a special decree, instructing them to send a Keeper of the Crystal, when earthlings are adrift.

A Keeper of the Crystal is someone that has been specifically chosen by the BP elders, to carry a rare and magical crystal to earth. The couriers considered for this assignment must go through a rigorous selection process, ultimately chosen for their unfolding bravery and wisdom. Their task is not only to carry the crystal to earth, but to share its ancient and vital story.

As the present Keeper of the Crystal, allow me to pass along its story:

Many moons ago, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a dashing young prince. His home was an imposing Medieval castle, nestled on the glistening banks of the mighty Alpenzee river, in the kingdom of Jord. The castle's soaring towers overlooked the lush, rolling pastures, that were the prince's playground.
Our spirited prince was adored by all, especially by his menagerie of animals, all gifts from his doting parents. His furry clan included; Thor the hamster, Bromley a Potbellied pig, Durango a Shetland pony, and his cherished Newfoundland, Max. He spent his days with his roaming band of pets, immersed in the curiosity of the dense forest. The woods and its enchanted creatures fascinated him. Countless hours were spent tracking raccoons, garter snakes and anything else that slithered in the night. He scoured the palette of the forest floor, always on the lookout for freshly gnawed bark and the slimy trail of the reptile, leaving its glistening calling card. The woods were his domain.

One day, unexpectedly, a great fog descended upon his valley and cast the entire kingdom into darkness. This was the kind of suffocating fog that rolls in, taking up residence with no plans of budging. It had become the kingdom's obnoxious houseguest that just wouldn't leave. For weeks, the sun's light remained obscured by this haunting fog. The young prince was locked in its misty shadows and was sadly confined to his tower. Day after day, he longingly gazed out his window, cut off from his forest escapades. This stubborn fog seemed to put a sullen weight on the entire kingdom. His land became steeped in an unshakable sadness.

The simple pleasure of watching the sunlight dance upon on the rushing Alpenzee had disappeared. The morning dew on the rolling meadow no longer lit the grass with thousands of flickering reflections. The flowers that once gloriously trailed along the castle walls, now lowered their heads, weeping with sadness. Even our prince became cloaked in melancholy as he gazed out his window, transfixed in a palpable gloom. Hope of ever seeing his land bathed in light again, was slipping away.

Each day our prince patiently waited for the fog to lift. However, each day brought more of the slumbering haze. Slumped with despair, sitting in his tower window, a tear slowly rolled down his plump cheek. It dropped and came to rest upon a handsome sterling tray, that held his morning tea.

His beloved Newfoundland, Max, seeing his sadness, lumbered to his side. He greeted him with a nuzzle, as he slipped his velvety nose under his arm. The prince gazed into his chestnut eyes and became lost in his tender, twinkling reflection. Max knew the tickle of his fur, and a sloppy lick, would comfort him. There was nothing softer than the bridge of his nose, and nothing sweeter than his fragrant musk. The prince's spirits were immediately lightened. He grabbed his beast's massive head and buried his face in his thick luxurious coat. Max's tail thumped with delight, as a smile gradually appeared on the prince's innocent face.

As the two hugged, a single shaft of light miraculously pierced through the fog, slicing open the murk. The stream of light entered his bedroom window, illuminating his silver tray, bouncing iridescent light everywhere. Astounded by the display, the prince and Max began to leap with elation, as his bedroom became engulfed in a vortex of color. The pure joy of being with his gentle companion, saturated in a whirl of luminosity sent them both into a good-natured wrestle. Dizzy with excitement he plopped himself in his over-stuffed chair, bumping the table that held the sterling tray, knocking the source of the kaleidoscope to the floor.

The tear that had dropped from his eye and landed on his silver tray had magically been transformed into a beautiful multi-faceted crystal, casting light, and most importantly, hope of a new day. This enchanted crystal not only cast light into the darkness, but carried the essential lessons of promise and resilience.

Gradually, the fog that had descended upon his kingdom, gently released its grip, giving way to the long overdue, glorious light. The prince gathered his merry band of four-legged friends, scooped up the crystal, and set off to the forest for the first time in weeks. As they made their way through the grassy woodland, he became mesmerized by the flicker of light through the forest boughs, and the enchanted shadows it cast.

​He paused under a great towering Oak, reached into his deep pocket and pulled out the magical crystal. Gazing into its cut planes, it was then he understood the wisdom of the crystal. He now had an awareness of the duality of life. It was the darkness that made him appreciate the light, and it was his sadness that gave way to his joy: two facets of the same crystal.

With that, Max let out a booming, yet playful bark, as the prince and his trusted companion jubilantly darted under the sun-streaked sky.

Jasper, I pass this story of the Crystal on to you. You are now its Keeper. It is your mission to share the wisdom of the Crystal with all you meet throughout your exhilarating journey.

Your forever sparkling Grandmama.

​Live in color,
Abby

Say it isn't so!

​How can this be? Just when my potted plants have matured into explosions of color, just when I can finally identify the constellations as they roll across the evening sky, just when my dinner consists of freshly picked corn, tomatoes and basil, it's over! How can this be?

Summer seems to have been nothing more than a tease. As if a stunning blonde, flaunting her youth and beauty, filling you with hope and excitement, only to slip away leaving you cold and alone once again.

​Before we slide into the chill of autumn, we need to squeeze out every last drop of what summer holds. I will start in my meadow.

The meadows in Vermont at the end of August are all abuzz with activity. If you listen closely, you can hear the flowers chant their final farewell. The sweetest of all the flowers are not the showy blossoms, the Daisies and Black-eyed Susan's, but the delicate weed flowers that paint an impressionistic wash across their lush palette. These are the unsung beauties that hold a quiet dignity to the pastures.

So farewell dear posies, farewell golden light, it is sad to see you go.

​As September unpacks her cool evenings and falling leaves, the warmth of summer will remain eternal in my heart.

Live in color,
Abby

Lately, items that are worn or that are cast-off, seem to be catching my interest. To find something that has been discarded, or in decay and then to elevate it to its full glory, is what is calling me.

​On a recent  weekend at the ocean, I scoured the shoreline for sea treasures. I am really talking about ocean debris. I noticed a simple shell that had been picked clean by a seagull, and left waiting to be washed back into the pounding surf. At first glance, the shell appeared to be simple, but at closer examination, it was anything but simple.

The sea snail shell caught my eye because of its spiral design, or Nautilus. This isn't your average, run of the mill spiral, but a mathematically perfect spiral.

Since the beginning of time the Nautilus has come to symbolize the cycles of life, and the spiritual journey.

​How could I not get drawn into its near circular labyrinth?

It was time to elevate this lone shell, from an abandoned mollusk home, to the captivating symbol of cosmic energy and beauty it has come to represent.

The shell and I had a moment, for it was in that intimate moment the shell revealed its beauty.

​Live in color,
Abby

Have you ever wondered why, after a trip to the ocean, you feel alive and invigorated?

On a recent beach holiday, I noticed after just a few hours of breathing in the invigorating air, my mood seemed to improve. I was more relaxed, and I could take a full breath, filling my lungs with what seemed to be energized air.

I get it. The beach is beautiful, powerful and majestic; however there was something undefinable in the air. During my first morning stroll along the shoreline with a friend, we both felt we were hit by something palpable as we approached the water's edge. I turned to her and said, "Do you feel that?" She said, "Yep, it's the ions."

So what are these ions? Seashore ions are not your garden variety ions. These potent little energized molecules are negative ions, but there is nothing negative about them.

​For all of you (me included) that fell asleep in Chemistry 101, here's the deal. The air we all breath is filled with molecules. These particles contain electrons and protons. When the number of protons and electrons are not balanced, the particles become either negatively or positively charged. A seashore ion is a negatively charged molecule, containing more electrons than protons.

Sea air contains electron-rich particles that have healing properties better than the claims once made by snake oil salesmen. These ions are the real deal. Negative ions have been found to enhance your immune system, purify your blood and increase your sex drive. Oh, now I have your attention!
​
Urban settings have high concentrations of positive ions, due to the irritating elements in our environment. Polluted air and electronic equipment are chronic generators of potentially harmful positive ions. However at the beach, away from pollution, negative ions rule. The plain fact is, negative ions help the body function more efficiently. They balance the autonomic nervous system, and act as a natural anti-depressant.

For the next few days of my vacation, I greeted each morning with a deep breath of briny sea air, and reveled in salty mist. By the end of my visit my frown lines seemed to soften, my mood lifted, and a smile became firmly planted on my face.

Walking up the weathered ramp for the ferry ride home, I felt charged. I took my last inhalation of the curative ions... ready to conduct and transform my world.

With summer now half over, I am writing you a prescription for a dose of beach.

Rx: One beach visit, deep inhalation every 2 to 3 hours followed by rest and relaxation. Repeat as often as needed. Unlimited refills.

​Live in color,
Abby

Have you ever really experienced the end of a day? Have you ever watched, not just the magnificence of a sunset, but what follows? The time when stillness consumes the landscape and enchantment reins...dusk.

This in-between time, straddling the fading light and emergence of the first evening star, evokes a sense of mystery. After the sun sets, curiously the evening breeze grows still, and bird songs seem to hush. Momentarily we are suspended between light and dark realms, creating a magical space to pause.

​Dusk is the day's intermission.

Now don't waste this intermission to grab a snack. This intermission is meant to dangle oneself between consciousness and unconsciousness, providing a reflective space to inhabit. This space can hold an amalgam of sensations. One could be enticed into this mystical gateway, or be consumed by a fear of foreboding darkness.

This short yet bewitching time should be utilized wisely. Enter this interval to high five the day, or touch base with your powers that be...as the day's last glimmer of light is silently extinguished.

Live in color,
Abby

Saturday morning in Vermont means only one thing: farmer's market. The stalls are packed with the freshest of vegetables, and roaming the market in search of dinner's green is a tough job, but someone has to do it. Beets, garlic scapes, carrots, oh my! Produce that is vibrant with color and plump, exploding with flavor is what draws me in.

A lone bag of spring green sugar snaps catches my attention over the golden beets and heirloom carrots, a perfect accompaniment to the planned grilled beef tips.

On the car ride home, somehow, a few snap peas mysteriously disappeared. I couldn't resist the delicate pods, and popped a few in my mouth to uncover their sweet burst of flavor.
Not only were they cute, but they were delicious!

Produce has a peak of freshness. Capturing greens, at their height is worth celebrating.
With these sugar snaps in their prime, a photo shoot of the delectable pods, to revel in their peakness, was in order.

I could hear my lone pod, when placed on a stark white plate say....."Mr. DeMille, I am ready for my close-up".

​Live in color,
Abby

Now more than ever I am drawn to the sea. There is a solace that only the water's edge can provide. After a weekend on the pristine beaches of Provincetown, I asked myself, what is it about the sea that makes my heart soften?

Standing in the warm sand of a dune, as the wind engulfs me with a flag flapping force, I can witness first hand the precarious balance of nature. The fierceness of the water is tamed only by the gentle rising slope of the glistening shoreline, depositing fragments of shells along with other discarded ocean treasures.

At the edge of the sea I find myself at an intersection between the vast and ever changing sky, the tumultuous tides, and me, a mere moral fortunate enough to witness this untamed commotion. It is that untamed character of the sea I am drawn to, reminding me I am not much more than a grain of sand holding ground until I too am washed away.

At the edge of the sea…
​
Live in color,
Abby

Is a lifetime of asking questions a waste of time?

There is a good chance a toddler's first foray into verbal communication just might come in the form of questions. These questions keep coming and coming and coming, becoming more complex and enigmatic as we mature. Now don't get me wrong, questions are great. Questions are a sign of curiosity and intellect. However, at some point as we mellow, I ask the game changing question, "Do we really need to know all the answers?"

Asking questions with no solid answers is frustrating. Just ask a person of science. A scientist will give you a hypothesis, or theory where answers are unknown, which for me, leads straight to a headache and two Advil. There is something to be said for being okay in the not knowing.

So now in my sixth decade, I'm taking a new approach; I am embracing ambiguity. I don't believe it is giving up a good fight, but more opening myself up to creative thinking. Ambiguity creates a space where ingenious options reside.

How about using that newfound space as our personal sandbox to muck around in? What if we throw out the need to know, and experience the freedom of digging deep into our limitless imagination and see what we can unearth.

Shovels not included.

​Live in color,
Abby