Author: Jean

If Death is Kind

Perhaps if death is kind, and there can be returning,
We will come back to earth some fragrant night,
And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending
Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white.

We will come down at night to these resounding beaches
And the long gentle thunder of the sea,
Here for a single hour in the wide starlight
We shall be happy, for the dead are free.

~Sara Teasdale 

I have had the privilege of participating in the famous Module Three, better known as mod 3 of the Kripalu 500 Hour Yoga Teacher Training, not once, but twice. Once I experienced it as a participant, and just recently as a program assistant. This ten day intensive is about transformational teaching. It is comprised of yoga practice and various provocative and compelling exercises that push the students to the outer limits of their comfort zones and into the stratosphere beyond. Guided by the master teachers Devarshi, Vidya, and most recently Jovinna, who each bring a unique form of charisma, brilliance, depth, intensity and even humor to material that can and does create conflict and triggers highly charged emotional responses, they artfully stir the cauldron. There is method to their madness.

Transformation in yoga is sacred work, it is the work. Shiva (the Hindu deity and archetype of transformation) dances in a ring of fire, fire that destroys what is no longer useful, burning away ignorance and illusion. This work takes ultimate courage, it is an invitation to upheaval, chaos, and destruction, that results in the reordering of the universe that lives within, in order to change the world without. Mod 3 is a call to leap into the fire, to trust these guides, to surrender, to burn, to awaken.

“The curriculum of this training is you. You are it, your life, your experiences.” Devarshi informed the students in my most recent go around. Such a true statement, our lives are our curriculum, experience is showing up, moment to moment, to teach each of us just what we need to learn. It is clear then, that these teachers and students of yoga show up to this module aligned in unique ways to receive its offerings.

When the schedule is handed out on the second day of the program, some have heard and some haven’t, of the shocking one word description filling the box for the activity on Sunday evening. When they look and see that word, the responses, though varied, are all intense. There it is, Sunday evening, one word; death. “We are going to do death?! What does that mean even?” I remember clearly, that being my response on my first go around several years ago as a participant.

“You are eternal, infinite, and whole, or not.” Devarshi would continue to put this inquiry out through the whole ten days, but for me it resonated most strongly in the death experience. As a student in the process I felt an urgency in that statement, almost like I had been delivered an ultimatum. “Come on, decide! Are you or aren’t you?”, my inner voice questioned. Fear bubbled up, a fear that had been percolating in me for years. Fear of death had been haunting me, a specter, a monster. I could sense its shadowy fingers stalking me. I spent hours in therapy on this subject all the way up to module three. Yoga is transformational indeed.

In the death night experience I began to change, to heal. In terror, I stepped into the room, and into the fire. The room was set up with blankets, sheets and cushions, which we would find out were to serve as death beds. We began though, sitting close together at the front of the room, for a talk from Vidya and Devarshi on the matter at hand. Devarshi shared a story of witnessing the death of a friend as a little boy. His story shook me, his vulnerability touched me and his clear strength and faith affected me deeply, instantaneously. Moment to moment, life curriculum arriving, teaching, transforming me. I had brought my life curriculum to the training, but here was life too, in that very moment, like a lightening bolt, and never to be the same again.

The next part of the experience brought it home, to the body, the mind, heart and soul. Full on fire! We each took a spot at a blanket, and the meditation began. Devarshi lead us through a narrative in which we go to the doctor for tests, we are informed that a rare and aggressive disease has been discovered and we only have days to live. We were then instructed to begin some writing, first thinking of four things we love in life and writing them on index cards, and then to write our own epitaph. As we wrote the epitaph, staff would come and replace our “things we love in life” cards with cards that would say something like, “you can no longer walk” or “it is getting hard to breath”. This might all seem hokey or ridiculous, but in the moment, in the atmosphere that had been created, I found it intense and profound.

Finally, we were told to end the journaling, that the time had come. We all laid down and Devarshi guided us through our last breaths, the moment of death, being covered with the sheet, moving into the light, being told it was not our time and returning us to life. Again, maybe this sounds silly in a way, or too contrived, but to meet death, to look at it, and shake off the denial of mortality and dive into the reality that this will be an experience we will all have someday is eye opening indeed.

Acknowledgment instead of denial of death is a call to wake the hell up and live!

Several years have passed between that first mod 3 as a student, and the second as staff,which was just a month ago. In those years I have had many more opportunities to learn and process around life and death and matters of faith and God. I have witnessed and received miracles. I have become more sensitive to, and aware of, divine guidance in my life. Miracles can be seen all the time in life, if you are looking in the right places, in the right light, with the right perspective.

Those experiences and revelations translated into an ability, in my second experience of death night as staff, to hold space and witness. I revisited my fear in the act of beholding it in others. I revisited that urgent question, “Infinite, eternal and whole, or not. Which is it?”, as I held the energy of it for others. Most importantly, both times, we went in together, shed tears together, lived that moment of life curriculum together. That is a beautiful thing to be, to behold.

As I said, I am still afraid of death sometimes, but I choose to trust the miracles, the deep and unexplainable inner knowing, my soul intelligence.

 Infinite, eternal and whole.

Next stop on my dancing with death tour, I will do the practice in the book “A Year To Live” by Stephen Levine. I loved it so much for one night, why not a whole year?

Anyone want to join me? Awwww, come on, you know you do!
                                                  

“Dream as if you’ll live forever.  Live as if you’ll die today.”  ~James Dean


First off, my only qualification as an expert on death is that I am alive, which means someday I will die.
I hope it is not a shocking insight that this is true of you as well.

Death. We all have a very intimate relationship with that word, that force, that reality. This relationship, like any in our lives, is probably complex and messy, and this one is (almost always) riddled with fear, resistance, pain, and denial. Unlike many events, people or things we relate to in life, when it comes to death we don’t get to choose. We can’t break up with death, can’t kick it to the curb.

I live a yogic life, and yoga has a lot to offer into this relationship with death. Fear of death, or clinging to life, is cited as one of the sources of suffering that yoga aims to liberate us from. As my teacher Devarshi says, “We are infinite, eternal and whole, or not.” Here is where we can find some choice in this matter. We have choices in how we can relate to death and how we live our lives. We can choose to live in denial or sense the preciousness of this life and dive into this chance to explore, to seek, to inquire. The question at the core of the matter is “Who am I?” “Who am I really?”. (I will come back around to that in part 2.)

Are you living? Are you REALLY living? Do you sense a soul connection and fulfillment in the activities, vocations, and relationships you invest in? Have you said, as of this moment, all you need to say to the people that matter? Is there peace in your heart or is there resentment, anger, fear? Healing and forgiveness should be a high calling, not an afterthought, especially for ourselves.

 If today was your last day, what would need to be done? Who would you say “I love you.” to?

 If you only had a year to live what would you delay no longer? What dreams would you finally invest in or relationships would you mend?

If you should die before you wake, would you be at peace?

Living with an active inquiry into and relationship with death can bring more life to this life.

I completed an extreme trail marathon this summer. The race shirt said on the back, “I realize that my participation in this event may result in injury or even death.” For whatever reason, that shirt really got me to thinking. Wow! What if I did not make it through this? This brought all the questions listed above to bear upon me over the next few weeks.

What I realized is that although I have fear of death, I am quite content with who I am and what I have done in my life. I have had a lot of deep struggle, to the point of despair in periods of my life, but luckily I have been gifted with the time to work through things, and I have had deep awakenings and amazing opportunities. I have said yes to what lights me up; my marriage, my children, yoga, dance, spiritual seeking and teaching.

I used to be unsure of my worthiness. I felt like I had to prove to myself, and the world, my right to be. That still comes up sometimes, but in the last few years I feel I have outgrown that pattern quite a bit. I look at where I am, who I am, and feel so grateful because I am a living miracle. I have achieved more than I ever imagined possible at my lowest of lows, at the age of twenty, when my life was on a crash course with complete devastation. I have come so very far, through years of healing my depression and anxiety, and engaging in intense soul searching.

After the race, I realized that I do have peace in my heart. I endeavor to live each day fully and also mindfully. I have big dreams, huge dreams, but I am also full right now, complete.

I choose infinite, eternal and whole.
More on that in part 2.                

  I am
  that I am
  I am breath
  that dances just
  as the universe dances
  I am spirit encased in sacred
  body blossoming forth a perfect
  expression of the divine light of all
  beings known and unknown that echo
  endlessly the harmonious voice of our one
  miraculous moment that is infinite and unbroken
  waves in the cosmic ocean that rise and fall the rhythm
  of the universe that lives in the very chambers of the temple
  of my heart that lives in your heart and every beating blessing now
     

  I have been called to bear witness.
  So have you, check in and see if this rings true.

In yoga we learn about the multidimensional self. We have a body, breath and energy, a mind, and then this interesting presence called witness consciousness, finally we have a soul or a bliss body. The part most crucial, most powerful, in yoga study and practice is cultivating the witness.

What is the witness? If you consider your thinking mind as a space through which thoughts, stories, judgments and ideas pass, then the witness is like the bigger container that holds all of that. The witness is the one who notices, “oh, there is a thought about…..”. The witness notices with compassion and holds no judgment. The witness, when present, helps us to love ourselves and others in any condition, it brings us to a full presence in the now.

Yeah, I know, it sounds a bit weird, a bit foreign, maybe bordering on multiple personality, but even if you have not purposefully attuned to witness it is there, even right now. Check it out.

I have witnessed so many amazing things lately, both in others and myself.

I just came off assisting a 500 hour yoga teacher training module on transformational teaching. There were many profound experiences delivered in the ten days we spent together. As a staff member my main job was to hold safe and sacred space, to bear witness. It was beautiful to see the unfoldings and awakenings of the group and to participate, on the edge of the group. The staff was both with the participants and experiencing the curriculum, but also holding them and maintaining a vigilance for their needs.

What kept coming up over and over again in this exploration of transformation was the importance of being present. Being fully present, to feel deeply and honestly, to become open to all range of emotion and experience. Fully present we become more of who we are, love and spirit embodied. We learned how to see the worlds of inner and outer experience with fresh vision and how to return to that nonjudgmental, compassionate witness consciousness again and again. We learned that our true nature is ” eternal, infinite and whole”, another phrase that figured heavily into the training. If we are eternal, infinite and whole beings whose nature is love than what have we to fear? Nothing. 

What is required to evolve, to transform, to become more of who we are meant to be? Loving presence.

I came home from the ten day training, had only a day to catch my breath and catch up with my family, and then I was off for a day trip to Bethlehem, Connecticut to bear witness once again.  This time I was going to The Abbey of Regina Laudis to see my friend and fellow Let Your Yoga Dance teacher take her first vows as a nun.

The church was stunning, rustic with a modern twist, simple and exquisite. Breathtaking. The ceremony was in Latin, English, and Spanish. It was full of beautiful chanting and ceremony. Divine energy was palpable in the room. The priest delivered an eloquent sermon that, as he spoke it, made me smile with the deep knowing that all things are indeed connected. There is no division or separation in this world, disunity is an illusion. In his sermon the priest spoke about presence. He talked at length about how we are always becoming more of who we are. He said, “We are always experiencing ourselves and journeying to becoming more of who we are called to be. From forever, to forever.”

Infinite, eternal and whole.

You can believe this or not, don’t take my word for it, or anyone else. Do some yoga, sit in meditation, do the things you love and notice if witness is there. Feel deeply and fully, observe yourself without judgment, become more of you, become love. You will forget this as well and that is perfect experience too. When you realize you have gone astray or aren’t quite where you want to be just call out, “Can I have a witness?” The answer will always be YES.              

          

‎”Find the blessings in the people around you because they’re the ones that support your life.”
— Dr. Oz


My husband Stephen and I just celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary, 18 years of magnificent, and yes, oftentimes messy marriage.

As I considered writing this post I realized that there is enough material here for a book, but this is a blog, so I will hit the highlights and if you want to know more just ask, and I will answer, within reason of course, not up to a tell all. Don’t worry Stephen.

First of all, my husband is truly incredible. He supports my dreams and ideas even when they are not things that he enjoys or even understands. He is a great dad who genuinely attends to his family. He makes pancakes on Saturday mornings, waffles on Sundays. When he looks at our kids he beams with pride and adoration. He is not afraid to show emotion, a man who can cry, what a gift. He is devoted, loyal and loving. He is my greatest blessing.

Our relationship began when we were just entering our twenties, so young. We were in college, trying to figure it out, who we were, what we would be, what we wanted in life. We were both lost, on the wild side, rebellious, angry, wounded. We partied more than we studied, we were reckless thrill seekers rejecting social norms, intelligent but self destructive. We both had murky, thick pools of pain to slog through and found it better to do so holding onto a hand that understood. We came together in our falling apart.

Together we got through troubled times, addressed our addictions and started our emotional healing.  Our marriage has been a journey of mutual healing. It has been amazing and difficult, heart wrenching at times. I believe that our closest relationships are forged in soul connection, we come together because our souls are drawn to their teachers and sometimes the lessons are tough.

Stephen and I have struggled through some great challenges in these 18 years together. Our like experiences that brought us together also meant we shared some powerful shadow qualities. Anger, shame, guilt, trauma, anxiety and depression have all made appearances. In our relationship we have brought out the best in each other, and the worst, like holding up a mirror to show the other everything that needs to be seen, everything that needs to be explored, everything that needs to be healed and held, finally, in the arms of acceptance and love.

I think this is where many marriages go wrong, and we almost went this way as well. When the struggle gets deep and intense that is where the seeds of great growth and healing might be planted, that is when it is vital to stay together, at least long enough to dig in, to feel, to find out. Some relationships do run their course, or can’t be healed and must end, but I think this is a culture of reactivity, looking for either quick fixes, or quick escapes. Instead of first pausing to breathe, feel, communicate, there is a fear based impulse to cut and run. I have had my share of moments of wanting to run away and not look back, growth has its pains. Love must sometimes be endured as well as cherished.

Forgiveness is the cornerstone of love.

We have come a long way together, we have weathered many storms and have enjoyed even more days of sun. We are blessed beyond measure to have each other, our beautiful children and a love that has been steadfast, patient and strong. We have learned about forgiveness many times over, in so many ways, and continue on that path. We have also learned that we can make all the room we each need to be different from each other. We don’t have to agree on everything, or anything even, we can march to different drummers and still dance together. We are perfectly imperfect together and have blossomed into more than we ever dreamed possible, holding the hand of someone who understands, not with their head, but with their heart.

“Let’s stay together, loving you whether, whether, times are good or bad happy or sad.”
 ~Al  Green

 I dedicate this song to you Stephen. Let’s keep staying together.

  I recently went to my home state of Wisconsin to hang with my family (mom, dad, siblings, and nephews) and run in an extreme trail marathon called “Dances With Dirt”.  Many of my friends would tell me this race had my name on it. I am an earth worshipper and I love to dance, my inspiration and expression respectively. I knew the course would be challenging and beautiful, a promise of steep bluff climbs and descents, rocks, roots and rugged terrain. Stunning and dangerous, the juxtaposition of nature.  I love this because it is so intense and intimate, all my senses buzzing and heightened, the pure state of being alive.

  Waiting for the race to begin my heart was beating quickly, I felt a potent surge of adrenaline and anticipation mingled with fear. The back of the race shirt quoted the first line of the waiver I had signed, ” …I realize that my participation in this event entails the risk of injury or even death…”.  Alright, clearly this was done to make us participants feel sufficiently bad ass, and now we even have a shirt to prove it, but unlike any other event I have done this one put it’s money where it’s mouth is. Hot weather, rugged terrain, at one point running quite close to cliffs with no fence, not even a rope barrier. The element of danger was not overwhelming but not fictitious either. I was dancing with fear, dancing with my mind and emotions. Toward the end of the race I was so tired I resorted to singing a medley of LMFAO songs just to give my mind something to chew on, but quickly stopped as the momentary distraction resulted in a couple near falls. Mind over matter, focus on the what is, let go of the story, let go of resistance and embrace tired, embrace pain, find strength in spirit. Powerful. I am powerful.      

 Upon reflection I can say I discovered that trail running really is a dance with dirt. It has rhythm and pulse, every step crucial and expressive. It requires deep feeling and intuition in order to sense and respond in each moment to my dance partner, earth. At times we would be moving fluid and at other times staccato steps or small leaps and bounds, often having to surrender to earth’s superiority and we would walk . A complex melody of movement, sometimes climbing, sometimes descending, perhaps falling. I had to be vigilant and focused to anticipate the next step while entrained simultaneously in this one, the feeling of speeding on the razors edge, but also each moment so vast in experience; endless, infinite. Dances of inner and outer worlds conjoined, harmonious, exhilarating. I felt dazzled and yet comfortably at home, content, just as I do on a dance floor.

 I find trail running to be a deep meditation as well. To run the trail requires ultimate focus and presence, each footfall and each breath are critical and precise. Distraction is dangerous on the trail.  Death no longer a distant and denied presence, but striding right there alongside the pumping thrill of life. There is nowhere else to be, nothing to do but take a next step, the next breath, no one to be. Here on the trail there is no identity, no responsibility, no status.  I find myself in awe, humbled, in a deep reconnection to earth and sky, animals and plants, water and wind. I feel deeply that I am not separate from these things, none of us are. To imagine that we stand apart from this sacred temple of the earth is a grand delusion. If meditation is a path to self realization that strips away illusion and shines the light of consciousness on truth then trail running serves that purpose for me (this is a personal statement and most certainly is not every one’s experience).

 I finished that day empty and yet full, blistered and raw physically and energetically but also empowered and bursting with deep joy and gratitude for all that dance with dirt had gifted me. Courage and humility, endurance and presence, seeing beauty in all, in everything, and to feel connected to people and land, one with the trees and the very dirt, a harmony and wholeness only possible when one learns to relish all experience and to savor even the moments of struggle and exhaustion. I came away with a greater respect, appreciation and understanding of myself. Dancing with dirt I unearthed yet another layer of me, and the dance goes on.

I intend to dance with dirt many more times.            

  I am getting ready to leave on a weekend trip to see my family and run a crazy trail marathon with my brother. My brain is almost living in two dimensions. One is of the here and now making the necessary preparations, but another part is already living in tomorrow and especially Saturday, race day. My mind is already trying to experience camping, waking early, getting to the start, and blast off (ok just to pump me up we will call it blast off ). I can almost feel the run, the sweat, the waves of exhilaration and fatigue, my body pre-sensing, it is palpable. Anticipation. Funny how the anticipation of the event can be like an alternate reality of future leaking into present, intense and sensual. I don’t understand quantum physics but maybe this is an experience of the fluidity or illusion of time.

 In exciting life experiences I really love this rush of anticipation and I am cognizant of wanting to savor it, to soak in it because I also know that in a mere instant it will have come and gone and I will be back here writing my post race blog. Time is an enigma to me. So much of what I do as a yoga teacher and meditator is about presence, to live in the now, and yet here I am living with only one foot in it, and clinging to that in a certain sense.

 I wonder if this is unique to humans. I know my dog is right on queue in the evening when it is treat time, but I wonder if he experiences this kind of full sensory anticipation. Just a curiosity moving through my presently humming mind, probably brought on by the adrenaline I can sense readying itself to do it’s job.

My body and mind are on board ready to rock, but now I think, “Hey wait minute!” Slow down and savor because this moment is about writing, communicating and being interested in this experience that is happening in that “now”.

Anticipation is interesting.          

 The Fourth of July is this country’s celebration of the rising up of the people against oppressive forces in order to claim a birthright of freedom. Freedom to have representation of the people in the government, freedom to make a life and a living, freedom to worship or not, freedom to be fully expressed as individuals. Sacrifices have been made by many through the years to protect freedom and to see it evolve and grow. We celebrate and honor all who have fought and debated, those who have marched and moved mountains of resistance in the name of justice and equality.

 I think the best way to honor the spirit of this holiday and this country is to make our own individual declarations of independence. We can all take stock of the areas in our life that are longing for expression which we hold back or suppress. It is time to widen our vision, to be creators and innovators, to collectively renew our individual spirit and drive so the whole can thrive. We all have gifts to offer and perspectives and insights to share. Say what you think, express what you feel but do it in the spirit of forward movement and mutual respect. This country is about allowing for differences of all kinds and the evolution and progress that happens when we challenge each other and inspire each other to be better people, to thrive in community as well as individuals. Don’t try to fit in, break out, be bold, rock the boat and question the status quo both around you and in you.

That is the spirit of independence that has made this country great. Honor it and make your declaration loud and proud!!        

 Today is the first day of summer. It is my favorite season, and I have to say it is no wonder to me that sun worship has had a place in the hearts of people since the dawn of time. I delight in the radiance, warmth and beauty of the sun, despite my fairer than fair freckled skin that is always on the brink of burn. A little sun changes everything, well, it does for me at least, brightens the mood, makes me smile. I love to dance all the time, but especially in the sun.

  My best memories of childhood are in this sumptuous season of peaches so juicy they dripped down my face and arms, bright jewel tone watermelon, diving into the cool of my backyard swimming pool. I would ride my bike on grand adventures through my small suburban neighborhood. At night I would play kick the can with the kids next door. Summer brought back my kindred spirits; toads, butterflies, and beetles. The long grass a wonderland and hideaway. Summer, a season of magic, dreams and dancing, and dance I did every chance I got.

  Now, in my house, in a little woods I feel that same anticipation and relish experiencing it with my own kids. Our little backyard pool guarded by towering elder trees, air full of bird songs and buzzing bees. Our brook that bubbles with delight, and frogs, salamanders and turtles to befriend. Dances and laughter with my girls, and my son looking for wild mushrooms and may apples. Life itself seems more spacious with the longer days, we linger in the light, with room to ease back into the repose of the evening. We tell stories and light fires, roast marshmallows and are warm in a deep togetherness that feels almost tribal.

  Summer is a season of sweet ripening, of stepping into that light. Ancient traditions observe this as a time of power and action, a calling to move forward boldly. We are of the earth, and become more enlightened and empowered by connecting to earth’s rhythms and cycles. Summer solstice celebrations bring people together. Traditions include fasting and feasting, fire rituals and of course song and dance.
The fire element is transformational, it can burn away what is no longer useful so that new life might spring forth from within us. It is a call to be powerful and creative, but also to lean back and enjoy, to savor the sweet juice of life.

 Dream a dream and let it float on dandelion seeds or firefly wings. Dance in the light and roll in the grass. Bite in and let the sweet juice flow, dive into cool waters and gather by the fire.  Feel the magic of this living breathing earth. Sit in tall grass or under those elder trees and be awestruck by the beauty all around us. Feel the solar power and dare to grow.

  In the last twenty four hours I have been obsessively embroiled in a heated discussion on an online blog collective. I usually read blog articles with an open mind and I might not always agree but there is no visceral or emotional reaction. I am able to hang back, observe, and process, but occasionally something grabs not only my attention but my guts and becomes a flashing neon target, and I take the bait, hook, line and sinker. This article was about all the false arguments and justifications meat eaters use for their immoral and planet destroying penchant for flesh. Honestly I mostly agreed with the premise of the article even though I can currently count myself amongst the cruel destroyers of the earth. I actually would quite like to go vegetarian, vegan is a bit too extreme for me, but I have kids, one of whom is a carnivore through and through, makes it tough.

  What really got me was the tone and delivery of the author’s argument. I can boil it down to one line that really hit my sensitive spot. He said,”I am not talking down to you, or judging you. Now get your head out of your butt before it gets lodged in there permanently. See what I did there?” I saw what he did there, he pushed a major button in my pain body.  The whole article smacked of fundamentalism, which I don’t think is ever good, no matter the cause. It was condescending, disparaging, and lacking in any invitation to a compassionate discourse, but the epicenter of its explosive effect on me was in that one line. It provoked me to post a comment, which received abrasive and biting comments from other readers and back and forth we went. I could not stop from continuing to defend because they just were not seeming to get my point. I could not disengage even when a wise friend suggested that would be the best course of action.  That hook had sunk in deep, I could struggle but I could not get away. Now I ask myself “Why?”

  This is actually of more interest and consequence to me than my position on the article. What got triggered? Clearly the intensity of my response had something more in it than feeling offended by this author’s statement, right or wrong. This had something to do with me. Here it is, I don’t like to be labeled as stupid. Stupid hits me deep in my psyche. I was bullied in elementary school (read relentlessly verbally attacked) and one of the most popular offenses was to attack my intelligence or cruelly try to say I did not have any. This is a shadow space, a core wound and the ego goes to great lengths to defend this vulnerable territory, the problem is that the defense causes its own suffering.  To end this cycle of suffering requires deep self love, patience, and a willingness to bring the shadow into consciousness. This does not mean to get rid of the shadow, it holds many gifts and a lot of energy, but to hold it and comfort it, heal it. 
  Whenever we find ourselves reacting to our environment with anger, behind it we will find fear, shame, hurt.  Knowing this might allow us to be more compassionate. The author of this article is clearly angry too and now I can remember that he too must be experiencing fear, sadness, suffering. I still do not agree with his methods but I honor his humanity that  is just like mine. 
   I think we all get hooked. What we don’t always do is dig in and figure out why. What does our reactivity point to in ourselves? Going there is the only way to get off the hook.