America’s longest war has put more people in prison and morgues, while enriching more kingpins, militaries and power brokers than any other US policy today. . Our expose of this cruel overreach of government power, The Business of Drugs, is live on Netflix today. I hope you’ll come with us on this important and disturbing journey. . #thebusinessofdrugs #netflix #corruption #racism #abuse
America’s longest war has put more people in prison and morgues, while enriching more kingpins, militaries and power brokers than any other US policy today. . Our expose of this cruel overreach of government power, The Business of Drugs, is live on Netflix today. I hope you’ll come with us on this important and disturbing journey. . #thebusinessofdrugs #netflix #corruption #racism #abuse
America’s longest war has put more people in prison and morgues, while enriching more kingpins, militaries and power brokers than any other US policy today. . Our expose of this cruel overreach of government power, The Business of Drugs, is live on Netflix today. I hope you’ll come with us on this important and disturbing journey. . #thebusinessofdrugs #netflix #corruption #racism #abuse
I know this challenge is supposed to be a photo of me alone, but since the day this shining spirit was born eleven years ago, my heart has never been alone. She makes me laugh, she makes me learn, she makes me proud. I would not be the woman I am without her in my arms. And I am so in awe of the young woman she’s become. . I love you strong, beautiful, brilliant challengers @_cherylhines @npdemember @tamtam.intl and every woman, girl, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, and grandmother who makes our world go round. . 📷: bk — July 18, 2020, Angeles National Park . #woman #mom #daughter #love #strength #womensupportingwomen
I first went to Myanmar in Sep of 1999 as a teenage student journalist to interview Aung San Suu Kyi. . Suu Kyi was then a global peace icon. Her country was in the grip of a brutal military regime, which tortured and killed its opponents, banned the internet, and exterminated its indigenous peoples. . Members of the National League for Democracy (NLD) were forbidden from speaking with the press. Even as a student journalist, I was detained by military police & eventually deported for interviewing Suu Kyi. . It was a grim time, but the weak flicker of democracy’s flame — protected and nurtured by activists meeting in secret attics and hidden basements — was growing slowly brighter. . I didn’t return to Yangon until 2015, when that democratic flame seemed to have finally lit up the nation. I stood in the street outside NLD Headquarters, in the very spot where I had been arrested in 1999, and instead of military convoys and barbed wire, the road was full of democracy flags and jubilant singing, as the NLD won the country’s first free and fair election in a landslide. . Even then, in the midst of that heart-swelling spasm of hope, the cracks in Burma’s fragile democratic experiment were beginning to show. Suu Kyi was struggling, often failing, to to be the noble leader we all expected. The hard-fought progress toward freedom was beginning to slip away, even as the world toasted its success. . Fast forward to last night’s military coup. Democratic leaders rounded up and detained. Internet access and news channels gone dark. International airport shuttered. A year-long state of military emergency declared. . In many ways, it feels like 1999 all over again. The Burma of caged windows & military checkpoints. How fleeting were those songs that flooded the streets in 2015. But I know in my soul they will be back. It may take years, but too many brave Burmese activists have fought for too long to give up now. Their dream of democracy will be realized once more. And until that day, we must stand with them. Advocate for them. And remember alongside them that government of, by, and for the people is a most fragile and precious treasure, both at home and overseas.
I first went to Myanmar in Sep of 1999 as a teenage student journalist to interview Aung San Suu Kyi. . Suu Kyi was then a global peace icon. Her country was in the grip of a brutal military regime, which tortured and killed its opponents, banned the internet, and exterminated its indigenous peoples. . Members of the National League for Democracy (NLD) were forbidden from speaking with the press. Even as a student journalist, I was detained by military police & eventually deported for interviewing Suu Kyi. . It was a grim time, but the weak flicker of democracy’s flame — protected and nurtured by activists meeting in secret attics and hidden basements — was growing slowly brighter. . I didn’t return to Yangon until 2015, when that democratic flame seemed to have finally lit up the nation. I stood in the street outside NLD Headquarters, in the very spot where I had been arrested in 1999, and instead of military convoys and barbed wire, the road was full of democracy flags and jubilant singing, as the NLD won the country’s first free and fair election in a landslide. . Even then, in the midst of that heart-swelling spasm of hope, the cracks in Burma’s fragile democratic experiment were beginning to show. Suu Kyi was struggling, often failing, to to be the noble leader we all expected. The hard-fought progress toward freedom was beginning to slip away, even as the world toasted its success. . Fast forward to last night’s military coup. Democratic leaders rounded up and detained. Internet access and news channels gone dark. International airport shuttered. A year-long state of military emergency declared. . In many ways, it feels like 1999 all over again. The Burma of caged windows & military checkpoints. How fleeting were those songs that flooded the streets in 2015. But I know in my soul they will be back. It may take years, but too many brave Burmese activists have fought for too long to give up now. Their dream of democracy will be realized once more. And until that day, we must stand with them. Advocate for them. And remember alongside them that government of, by, and for the people is a most fragile and precious treasure, both at home and overseas.
Our beloved Toots. You were named for the artist whose colors you wore on your chest. You landed in our life like a guardian spirit, impossibly fragile, impossibly brave. From the first day you joined our family, you came with us everywhere, perched on one of our shoulders or nestled under our hair. You ate salad at cafes beside us, romped with us on evening walks, let children everywhere nuzzle your soft feathers. You reminded each person you met that however broken this world may seem, it bursts everywhere with consciousness and magic and life. . The night before you crossed the rainbow bridge, I lay with you on the sofa. I had no idea it was our last moment together. But in the stillness, I could feel your heartbeat. You turned your head so I could rub the spot under your chin. We were connected. . Today, as we let your earth body go, as so many around the world face so much inconceivable loss, I take quiet comfort in remembering that moment. The mystery that pulses under the surface, the force that connects us all. It is, in the words of the original Toots, a love that is deep as the ocean, and wide wide wide wide as the sea.
Our beloved Toots. You were named for the artist whose colors you wore on your chest. You landed in our life like a guardian spirit, impossibly fragile, impossibly brave. From the first day you joined our family, you came with us everywhere, perched on one of our shoulders or nestled under our hair. You ate salad at cafes beside us, romped with us on evening walks, let children everywhere nuzzle your soft feathers. You reminded each person you met that however broken this world may seem, it bursts everywhere with consciousness and magic and life. . The night before you crossed the rainbow bridge, I lay with you on the sofa. I had no idea it was our last moment together. But in the stillness, I could feel your heartbeat. You turned your head so I could rub the spot under your chin. We were connected. . Today, as we let your earth body go, as so many around the world face so much inconceivable loss, I take quiet comfort in remembering that moment. The mystery that pulses under the surface, the force that connects us all. It is, in the words of the original Toots, a love that is deep as the ocean, and wide wide wide wide as the sea.
Our beloved Toots. You were named for the artist whose colors you wore on your chest. You landed in our life like a guardian spirit, impossibly fragile, impossibly brave. From the first day you joined our family, you came with us everywhere, perched on one of our shoulders or nestled under our hair. You ate salad at cafes beside us, romped with us on evening walks, let children everywhere nuzzle your soft feathers. You reminded each person you met that however broken this world may seem, it bursts everywhere with consciousness and magic and life. . The night before you crossed the rainbow bridge, I lay with you on the sofa. I had no idea it was our last moment together. But in the stillness, I could feel your heartbeat. You turned your head so I could rub the spot under your chin. We were connected. . Today, as we let your earth body go, as so many around the world face so much inconceivable loss, I take quiet comfort in remembering that moment. The mystery that pulses under the surface, the force that connects us all. It is, in the words of the original Toots, a love that is deep as the ocean, and wide wide wide wide as the sea.
Our beloved Toots. You were named for the artist whose colors you wore on your chest. You landed in our life like a guardian spirit, impossibly fragile, impossibly brave. From the first day you joined our family, you came with us everywhere, perched on one of our shoulders or nestled under our hair. You ate salad at cafes beside us, romped with us on evening walks, let children everywhere nuzzle your soft feathers. You reminded each person you met that however broken this world may seem, it bursts everywhere with consciousness and magic and life. . The night before you crossed the rainbow bridge, I lay with you on the sofa. I had no idea it was our last moment together. But in the stillness, I could feel your heartbeat. You turned your head so I could rub the spot under your chin. We were connected. . Today, as we let your earth body go, as so many around the world face so much inconceivable loss, I take quiet comfort in remembering that moment. The mystery that pulses under the surface, the force that connects us all. It is, in the words of the original Toots, a love that is deep as the ocean, and wide wide wide wide as the sea.
Our beloved Toots. You were named for the artist whose colors you wore on your chest. You landed in our life like a guardian spirit, impossibly fragile, impossibly brave. From the first day you joined our family, you came with us everywhere, perched on one of our shoulders or nestled under our hair. You ate salad at cafes beside us, romped with us on evening walks, let children everywhere nuzzle your soft feathers. You reminded each person you met that however broken this world may seem, it bursts everywhere with consciousness and magic and life. . The night before you crossed the rainbow bridge, I lay with you on the sofa. I had no idea it was our last moment together. But in the stillness, I could feel your heartbeat. You turned your head so I could rub the spot under your chin. We were connected. . Today, as we let your earth body go, as so many around the world face so much inconceivable loss, I take quiet comfort in remembering that moment. The mystery that pulses under the surface, the force that connects us all. It is, in the words of the original Toots, a love that is deep as the ocean, and wide wide wide wide as the sea.
Our beloved Toots. You were named for the artist whose colors you wore on your chest. You landed in our life like a guardian spirit, impossibly fragile, impossibly brave. From the first day you joined our family, you came with us everywhere, perched on one of our shoulders or nestled under our hair. You ate salad at cafes beside us, romped with us on evening walks, let children everywhere nuzzle your soft feathers. You reminded each person you met that however broken this world may seem, it bursts everywhere with consciousness and magic and life. . The night before you crossed the rainbow bridge, I lay with you on the sofa. I had no idea it was our last moment together. But in the stillness, I could feel your heartbeat. You turned your head so I could rub the spot under your chin. We were connected. . Today, as we let your earth body go, as so many around the world face so much inconceivable loss, I take quiet comfort in remembering that moment. The mystery that pulses under the surface, the force that connects us all. It is, in the words of the original Toots, a love that is deep as the ocean, and wide wide wide wide as the sea.
I spent years watching our government send my friends into a war that gained our country nothing. Some of them died. Some lost a limb. Many lost their mental health. Almost all lost the version of themselves they had been before they went. . For a long time, when I visited treatment centers or spoke with surviving families, I grasped for some grand legacy. But as we withdrew from Iraq, leaving civilian casualty counts in the hundreds of thousands, I settled instead on acknowledging the truth: “Your baby was a hero, even if the choice to send them there was wrong.” . One father told me that my honesty was more comfort than it should be. He said that real comfort would be an American President who thought twice before sending our children out to kill or be killed. . Back then, I wasn’t sure that such a President would ever emerge. Today, I am. . The media has had a lot to say about Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., but I urge you to hear his vision in his own words. It has rekindled my hope for our country, as thousands more Americans join in his call for peaceful leadership every day. . Last month, the Economist published the first poll showing RFK Jr leading both Trump and Biden nationwide. To me, this feels like a shared recognition that it is time for us to grow up as a country. Time to leave this season of binary thinking behind us. To recognize the human dignity of our neighbors and love one another back into community. Domestically and overseas. . In Bobby’s tradition, I won’t ask you to take my word for it. But I will ask you to listen to this speech for yourself and think freely about the kind of America you want to leave behind you. To consider whether you dream of a country that spends more on war than on food stamps and education and housing combined. Whether you believe in free expression, believe in open discourse, believe in yourselves as valuable contributors to a living, thriving conversation about who we are as a nation, and who we want to become. . You can find more of Bobby’s own words at the link in my profile. . #peace #leadership #healthedivide #rfkjr #kennedy #kennedydemocrat #kennedyamerican #diplomacy #love
summer lovin
summer lovin
summer lovin
summer lovin
summer lovin
summer lovin
summer lovin
summer lovin
I always wondered why we honor our fallen heroes on the last Monday in May, along with the more widely celebrated Nov. 11th. . The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month was seared in my mind from history class & WWI poetry. Veteran’s Day was in November for a reason. . But why do we mark a second remembrance on this day in May? . The answer is uniquely American. And uniquely beautiful, I think. The first Memorial Day was held at the end of the Civil War, as returning soldiers decorated the graves of fallen friends & our heartbroken country began to repair its violent divisions in the name of a unified peace. It was maybe no accident that this coincided with an old holiday — a moveable feast known as Whit Monday. . Whit Monday marks the story of God’s spirit entering the hearts of those who had been divided by language & tradition & belief to remind them that they belong to the same cosmic whole. . In much of Europe, Whit Monday is celebrated as the beginning of summer, just as we think of Memorial Day here at home. But here, the day takes on the profound melancholy & hopefulness of lived experience. The Civil War taught us how steep is the price of division, in lives & treasure, property & dreams. I can’t fathom the courage of those early veterans, burying grievance & trauma to strive for a reunited land. . On this Memorial Day, a century & a half hence, we have the chance to honor those fallen heroes with that same striving — to rekindle our commitment to one another & the unified nation for which they paid with their lives. On this Whit Monday, we have an invitation to pause & open ourselves to the great cosmic Oneness — the shared destiny that links us, one to another, vulnerable creatures, safe only in each other’s vigilant keeping. . So maybe, reach out to that neighbor with the yard signs in the wrong color. Share some tea with that friend you stopped seeing. Turn off the talking heads and offer your enemy a listening ear. Let’s start burying some hatchets before we bury more dead. Because the endless fields of lost heroes don’t need more company. They’d rest a lot easier knowing today’s heroes were living instead.
feeling it
8mm film from the weekend dorking around on a pontoon boat ❤️
