William and I saw Taking Woodstock this afternoon, a fitting send-off for me as I get ready to leave in the morning for speaking at “Raw Spirit,” a raw food festival near Washington, DC, that I’ve heard has a major 60s vibe. (I’ll give you the full report on Monday.) The movie was pretty good, no discernible music, though, which was a tad disappointing. It did have a great line, though: “They really shouldn’t call this ‘Woodstock,’ since people will go to the real Woodstock looking for the concert.” Forty years later, they still are: when we lived there last year, tourists were always pulling over on the main street asking where the famous field was. They were invariably disappointed when we told them it was 50 miles away.

The movie was a nice close to a sweet day that started with meeting one of my coaching clients for breakfast at Quintessence, a raw food restaurant in the East Village. It just started having early morning hours. My client had “banana nut bread” with “cream cheese” (magic, I know) and I had fruit salad with raw granola (I really am rehearsing for a hippie weekend…) and “yogurt” made from baby coconut and apple cider vinegar.
On the way home, I stopped at a Catholic church run by Franciscan friars. There was a sign 

St. Francis.jpg

on the front of St. Francis’s “Canticle of All Creatures” (quoted at the end of this post) and it so drew me in that I went inside to pray for awhile. I grew up Catholic, with a strong influence of Unity and metaphysical teachings from Dede, the woman who lived with us and helped raise me. Whenever I go into a Catholic church now, it takes me back to a lot of mystical memories: the candles, the architecture, the windows, the statues, the frankincense all rouse my soul at some level deeper than I can explain. 
And now, when I’m in a Catholic church, I feel a special closeness to James, my stepson who died two years ago at sixteen. James helped me make peace with Catholicism as no one else had ever done. He was a practicing Catholic and went to Catholic school. He didn’t talk about religion—I mean, he was a teenage boy—but he took the teachings about peace and justice and looking out for people to heart. He showed me what those teachings look like in practice, and today in that church I thanked him.


Later I visited my daughter, Adair, who showed me the picture on Petfinder.com of the dog she and Nick plan to adopt, a 16-year-old Staffordshire (not the dog pictured, but a similar black and white face). “She was 14 when they put her on Petfinder,” Adair told me. “Her human had died and she’s been in shelters and foster care for two years. We just want her to have a family for the time she has left.” Gosh.
So, I’m going to sleep tonight with gratitude for the people who have touched my life and for the day just lived. Have a nice weekend.
The Canticle of All Creatures
St. Francis of Assisi
Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord,
All praise is Yours, all glory, all honour and all blessings.
To you alone, Most High, do they belong,
and no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your Name.
Praised be You my Lord with all Your creatures,
especially Sir Brother Sun,
Who is the day through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendour,
Of You Most High, he bears the likeness.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars,
In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all weather’s moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.
Praised be You my Lord through Sister Water,
So useful, humble, precious and pure.
Praised be You my Lord through Brother Fire,
through whom You light the night
and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.
Praised be You my Lord through our Sister,
Mother Earth who sustains and governs us,
producing varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.
Praise be You my Lord through those who grant pardon
for love of You and bear sickness and trial.
Blessed are those who endure in peace,
By You Most High, they will be crowned.
Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death,
from whom no-one living can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin!
Blessed are they She finds doing Your Will.
No second death can do them harm.
Praise and bless my Lord and give Him thanks,
And serve Him with great humility.
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