"Too many children are dying"

 Gabby Giffords on Jan. 7, 2011, the day before she was shot in the head:

 Warning: Get out your hankies.

I am enamored with the way Mark Kelly's lips are moving as his wife reads her statement, just as an encouraging parent's lips would move when his child was reading aloud.

How much their lives changed the day Giffords was shot. How little has changed in gun control laws.

Some gun advocates say there's nothing that can be done to curb gun violence, between the current interpretation of the Second Amendment and the sheer number of guns already in circulation. The public is supposed to just "deal with it."

A country that survived a civil war and two world wars, that sent astronauts to the moon, does not just "deal with" problems. It solves them.

Giffords is absolutely right. We must do something about gun violence. Her peers did nothing even when one of their own was shot. If twenty dead children, buried for a month, are not enough to get Congress to act to curb violence, then the leadership of this country has lost its way.

Morality Relocation Program

In happier days

After Lance Armstrong won his third Tour de France, I was conditioned to be amazed. His story of surviving testicular cancer and competing in the Tour would have been inspiring enough, all on its own. Winning a stage would have been a great achievement. Winning seven in a row was the stuff of legend.

Rumors of doping hounded Armstrong, and I chalked them up to professional envy. I wanted to believe his victories were both good and true. If he wasn't using potent Texas rhetoric to swat those rumors away, he was filing lawsuits. The guy was a fighter and a champion. He meant business, on the bike and elsewhere.

On the victory stand after his seventh win, Armstrong aimed directly at his detractors. "I'm sorry you can't dream big. And I'm sorry you don't believe in miracles." No one wants one of the greatest champions in sport saying you dream small and discount miracles. Dreaming big and believing in miracles is what makes champions. So I, along with many millions, continued to believe.

Sheryl Crow, his girlfriend at the time, told CBS Morning News, "[Lance] is a cancer survivor, which we all know. And the thought of him putting anything into his body that could possibly hurt him is not even worthy debating."

Now that the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency has stripped Armstrong of his seven Tour victories and banned his participation in any competition, news of his appearance and anticipated admission of guilt on Oprah's show has been on the airwaves for over a week. Armstrong and his publicists, with considerable help from the Big O, are still conditioning us to be amazed. He seems to want our forgiveness.

No, forgive me. Forgive me for not being amazed. Forgive me for being downright cynical about your motives. Forgive me for not giving a damn whether you ever compete in any race ever again. Forgive me for calling you Mephistopheles. Because you sold you soul to the devil for some wins and the glory and fortune that went along with them. You need to tell us, especially the kids who are watching, that selling your soul to the devil is as unoriginal as it is stupid. Because you'll always get caught, and everything you stole will be confiscated. You'll have lost your integrity. All the money in the world can't buy it back. You'll need to create your own Morality Relocation Program, and chances are good you'll be all alone while you're doing it.

Speaking of kids, you need to tell them exactly how you doped. How it looked and felt, so that USADA has better insight into the process for future enforcement. How many people you lied to, how many people lied for you. How unhealthy doping and lying are, despite what your pretty and talented girlfriend said about you on a national news program, and how you never want them to risk their health and their standing with God for a few wins. How it feels to look into the eyes of the mothers of your five children, into the eyes of your girlfriends, and lie to them. How it feels, now that the truth is known, to look into the eyes of your children. And your mother. Please, confess all of it. Because you've always wanted us to believe, right?

Our sons, right around the time Armstrong won his first Tour. They've looked up to Lance Armstrong their whole lives.

And please don't insult us with the kind of lame apology that the disgraced yet unchastened offer when they're caught in a scandal of their own creation. "I'm sorry if what I did made you feel uncomfortable." That ain't an apology. That's going through the motions.

Here's what a real apology would sound like. "I'm sorry I lied to you all about doping. I wanted the wins more than I've ever wanted anything else, and I was prepared to do whatever I could to gain an advantage. All those years I told myself doping was the price of competing at the highest level, that everyone else was doing it, and those who weren't doping were chumps and losers. I knew it was wrong, but I thought the wins and the fame and the money would make it OK. I trusted in my own intelligence, and in the intelligence of my protectors, but it wasn't intelligence at all. It was lying, and it was cheating, and my mother raised me better. It's not worth it. I've lost more than I've ever gained. I'll be spending the rest of my life atoning for it."

Maybe this is how he can feed his kids, by publicly taking that fearless moral self-inventory so many other addicts before me have taken.

Then Lance might amaze me again.

What Tenderizes Your Heart?

"One can never have too many cats." Anonymous

I confess to latent Crazy Cat Lady tendencies. Though this box of cuties is tempting, I limit myself to two kitties, because I love my husband more. I believe this disqualifies me from being a true CCL, because a true CCL likes cats more than people. Don loves cats, too. It's cleaning litter boxes that he's less fond of.

Our two lugnuts, doing what they do best.

I love animals so much I volunteered at the Greenwood Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, feeding squirrels, birds and raccoons, this last much to the chagrin of my dear departed friend Jo Hansen. Jo lived in downtown Boulder, and as far as she was concerned, raccoons were the scourge of civilization. They pooped and mated and caused a ruckus in her back yard at inconvenient hours. No doubt raccoons are the juvenile delinquents of the animal kingdom. But they have a certain louche charm that gets to me. Years ago, I named one of my cats, a female tortoiseshell with rakish black goggles, Raccoon.

Simply irresistible

Our neighbors adopted a puppy after their dog died. I was looking forward to watching another puppy grow up. Then they got the news that he has a liver disease that will likely be fatal. They are taking it all in stride, especially Harley. He doesn't know he has a fatal disease. He's still playing, running around, being a baby, growing and loving life. The family is committed to riding it out with him. He's lucky to have landed with such a caring family.

Cutest puppy on earth. The name's Harley.

Because unfortunately, not every animals lives with high-quality people like the Prices. I receive Facebook posts from Hearts United for Animals, a no-kill dog sanctuary in Nebraska. One of their rescues has especially touched me and many others who receive these posts.

This is the first picture of Noah I saw. The sadness and weariness in his eyes is devastating.

Noah after a couple of weeks at Hearts United for Animals. Despite all he's been through, he looks really glad to be alive.

When I saw the first photo I thought, What on earth happened to this poor dog? You can read more about the circumstances of Noah's rescue here. Scroll down to the December 20 post for the complete story. His story is tenderizing my heart. I often say that our cats have better lives than many people in the world. Until Noah was brought to Hearts United for Animals, that was not true for him. The people there are literally loving him back to health. I hope you'll join me in making a donation to this worthy organization.

This afternoon Hearts United posted some very good news about Noah's prognosis. The tumors they removed from his abdomen were benign. His other physical wounds are healing, and judging from the photos and stories, he's doing well emotionally.

Gandhi once wrote, "The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by how it's animals are treated." On the one hand, our country is in great shape, with the angels in Nebraska taking such great care of abandoned dogs. On the other hand, our country is in poor shape, because people would mistreat Noah and other dogs in the way they did.

Another great humanitarian, Albert Schweitzer, wrote, "Anyone who has accustomed himself to regard the life of any living creature as worthless is in danger of arriving also at the idea of worthless human life." Amen to that. I confess there are days when I like animals more than people. Cats don't talk back. They don't tailgate me on I-25.

As I aspire to be even a scintilla of the humanitarian that Gandhi and Schweitzer were, I commit to holding the welfare of people equal to the welfare of animals. Here's to tenderizing our hearts!

Let's Call It

Now that we've survived the nothingburger that was December 21, 2012, it's a good time to take a deep breath and look at what's actually happening. There are terrible, seemingly intractable problems facing the U.S. and every other country. At this moment the outgoing Congress hasn't passed a budget. The "fiscal cliff" may itself be a big old nothingburger. But the fact that Congress has been funding the government on continuing resolutions since 2006 is something--a symptom of the political myopia of too many of our leaders. 

 

And yet. There are also signs that there is movement afoot . Out of the wreckage of mass shootings, a surprising willingness to address gun violence. A brutal gang rape and murder in Delhi, a sudden acknowledgment of the price of patriarchy and sexism. A young man immolates himself in Tunisia, and Tunisians, Egyptians, Moroccans, and Libyans protest the repressive dictatorships governing their countries, discovering for themselves the responsibilities of leadership. A destructive superstorm hits the most populous area of our country, again bringing the issue of climate change to the fore.

People are awakening. What we might have accepted as unchangeable even a year ago is now shifting. There is new awareness that the old ways of thinking, doing and being are unsustainable. More people believe that climate change is here after Superstorm Sandy
After an unacceptable number of mass shootings and decades of NRA brainwashing, more people see the need for gun control measures. It's taken a mass shooting of 20 first graders to awaken people to the fact that the easy availability of combat weapons in the hands of private citizens, and mentally unstable and criminal people, is an unacceptable price to pay for the abstract notion of the so-called "right to bear arms."After a young woman is brutally raped and dies, people in India are protesting violence against women. Dictatorships are being exposed for what they are--a way for dynasties to retain as many privileges as they can to the detriment of their countrymen.

It's taken Superstorm Sandy to wake people to the reality of climate change. It's time to stop the kindergarten argument about what or who's to blame and start addressing the problems of overconsumption and overpopulation while there is still time.To do something about it, even if it's not quite the right diagnosis.

Along these lines, when our son Geoff was seven months old, he caught his very first virus, and every subsequent virus that came his way. Bronchiolitis was the standard diagnosis.There were many sleepless nights, many emergency trips to the doctor. When he was just over a year old, our pediatrician ordered a test for cystic fibrosis. My heart froze. In high school and college, two classmates had CF, and one had died at age 24, the other at 37.

"He's not breaking any records on growth, so I just want to rule it out," she said. All the way home my mind raced as Geoff cried in his car seat.

The test results came back negative, but he still wasn't well. Finally Dr. Patno did what docs do to earn their salaries--she made a treatment decision. She consulted with a pediatric pulmonologist at the University of Vermont.  He had seen good results in infants with chronic bronchiolitis treated with nebulized asthma drugs. He recommended Intal four times daily for preventing bronchial spasms, and albuterol for acute spasms only. It was worth a try.

The first time Geoff received a treatment at the hospital, he tried to pull off the mask with his tiny hands. We restrained him as he cried the entire three minutes of the treatment. The first two treatments he received at home were the same. By the third, he pressed the toggle switch on the nebulizing machine himself. At fourteen months, he already had made the connection between the treatments and feeling better. By the time we moved to Colorado less than two years later, he no longer required daily medication. He'll be 21 tomorrow.

Just as Dr. Karyn Patno named Geoff's condition and treated it accordingly, it's long past time to make the call on climate change. Help me celebrate my son's 21st birthday by supporting and living out sustained efforts to reduce our country's carbon footprint.

Let's also call it on gun violence. The pro-gun lobby is the civilian manifestation of Cold War-era thinking. Arm yourselves to the hilt, and you'll be safer. Of course the nuclear arms race did not and has not made us safer or healthier, wealthier or wiser. People in this country are already armed to the hilt. It's time to stop paying into this outmoded thinking.

The brutal civil war in Syria with no clear end in sight weighs heavily. I pray for Assad's cruel tenure to come to a swift end, so the Syrian people may experience peace and seize opportunities to rebuild their country in ways that are more beneficial to them.




My most fervent hope is that humans stop creating the conditions for injustice in the first place and replace them with conditions for justice. Let's stop hurting each other intentionally. We can begin to stop hurting each other even unintentionally by being more sensitive to each other.

Every blessing to you in the New Year. 

"What's So Funny About Peace, Love and Understanding"

One of the few times words fail me, so I'll let the great Nick Lowe's words and Elvis Costello's co-performance stand in as my response to the National Rifle Association's response to the Newtown murders.

Well-regulated militia, my ass

Another day, another shooting, this time of schoolchildren in Connecticut.

In the eighteen years since Don and I moved to Colorado, I have been witness to two mass shootings in the state I've come to love. It's not necessary to spell out which shootings they were. Columbine and Aurora have their own deadly shorthand. Now Newtown, Connecticut joins this sorry list.

Connecticut Senator-elect Chris Murphy says he's "shocked and saddened" by the shootings. He's half right. Because honestly, how can anyone be shocked, after all the shootings just this year? At least 15 have occurred, resulting in 84 deaths, dozens of injuries, and long-term suffering for those who witnessed the attacks and lost loved ones. This list doesn't count Jovan Belcher's murder of the mother of his daughter and his suicide, and the countless other so-called smaller-scale shootings

I'm with Sen. Murphy. I'm sad. I'm pissed off. The only thing that still shocks me is that the National Rifle Association and gun enthusiasts continue to defend the right to buy as many guns and as much ammo as they see fit. Here's what the Second Amendment says: "A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed." Mentally ill young men dressed head to toe in body armor are not part of a well-regulated militia. No one in the United States in 2012, apart from the military and police, has any business having unlimited access to weaponry.

Some will revive the preposterous theory that if the school had been armed, fewer, if any people would have died today. The day that teachers and administrators and, God forbid, students pack heat in schools is the day that the United States is no longer a civil society. Well-regulated militia, my ass. We will effectively be in a civil war. 

The justifications for this insanity need to stop now. They are hollow, and they are a slap in the face to the people who are hurting from the senseless, and preventable, loss of loved ones. 

Over the next days and weeks, I expect there will be a shrine of teddy bears and crosses erected outside the school in Connecticut. Go for it. And then do something that will have a meaningful, long-term impact on the undeniable problem of gun violence. Donate to the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence.

Smart Feet

How cute are these piggies?

Yoga students are eager to move through poses that strengthen their limbs and core and lengthen their spines in back bends and twists. When it comes to balance poses, usually polite students barely suppress groans.

I get it. For years I dreaded balance poses. It's easier to look graceful and accomplished when cycling through a round of sun salutations or warrior poses than it is to balance, or more precisely, to fall in and out of, Tree pose.

I inherited a tendency for bunions. Wearing cute high heels when I worked book conferences on concrete convention center floors exacerbated the problem. I still remember with fondness the pair that did them in. The were floral print, square-taper pumps from Spain. They were so pretty and stylish, teenaged boys would compliment those shoes. The charm wore off when, after a twelve-hour day on my feet at a book fair in St. Louis, I swear my bunions swelled to twice their size. I've worn sensible shoes ever since.

During yoga teacher training, a stern acharya took one look at my feet and said, "You've got some work to do."  I discovered a gem of an article by Doug Keller that offers great and easy therapy for distressed feet. I did the exercises every day and found that not only were standing poses easier but so were the dreaded balances! Where I had once had "stupid feet,"Keller's exercises had helped intelligence move into my feet. It's a long way from the brain to the feet. Just as the spine lengthens and rejuvenates itself in virtually every yoga pose, messages from the brain to the feet extend their reach when you consciously work on it.

There are 28 bones in the foot. The harmony of the bones, muscles, tendons and ligaments holding this miraculous structure together can so easily be disrupted.

Foot work is not just for students who have bunions. The feet take a beating over the course of a lifetime, and we mistreat them with the shoes we wear. So I've incorporated what I call Smart Feet exercises into my teaching. My students' favorite--OK, it's my favorite--is toe raises. You practice lifting only the big toes while keeping the other toes on  the floor. Then you raise only the pinky toes while keeping the others pressed to the ground. The bonus round: simultaneously lifting the big toes and pinkies while keeping the middle toes on the floor! I worked on this last move for a month before I could finally do it.

When you try it, you'll find your fingers wanting to conduct what your feet are doing, and that's fine. The fingers are more flexible, more alive with intelligence, because we use them all the time, and they convey it to the feet. Anatomically, the big toe raise is strengthening the anterior muscles of the foot, and the pinky raises strengthen the lateral sides of the foot. All of it adds up to strengthening the feet and making them more flexible. Most people also pronate and supinate.Working with the feet yogically helps resolve these imbalances in weight dispersal, and thereby improves balance.

The shoes you choose to wear also determine how smart your feet are, as I learned the hard way. At the recommendation of teachers at the ashram, I got a pair of Vibram Five Fingers. They look like toe socks with a thin leather sole. Best $75 I ever spent. My feet sing when I wear them. I balance over my arches better, and utilize the soles of my feet more fully and efficiently. Some hardy souls I know use them to run in. But I've determined that my feet are too far gone to use the Five Fingers for running, despite the rehab I've done. I tried it once, and the left sole of my foot hurt for weeks afterward. I'll stick with my C-width Brooks running shoes.

Try the foot exercises and see for yourself how much more supple your feet are in standing poses and balances. Smart feet are always in fashion.

I may have bunions, but at least I don't have hobbit feet.