A five minute film is now available for free viewing of The Coffee Dance. Seeds of Empowerment is a specially crafted film for the View Change Online film contest.

The film contest is posting powerful five-minute films that tell stories of progress in developing countries. What are people doing to help end poverty, disease, hunger, conflict, inequality, and illiteracy? Show us the progress being made towards achieving the United Nations Millennium Development Goals (MDGs).

In a few weeks voting will begin. For now, please take a look at Seeds of Empowerment and all the other films working out there to make the world a better place to live.

We start to dance. On the “streets” I often hear derogatory remarks about Nicaraguans. The comments mimick those in other countries concerning immigrants such as competition for health care, jobs, education, and housing.

It is a subtle prejudice with acts of hatred rarely following in Costa Rica. But as mentioned in the film, The Coffee Dance, who wants to pick the coffee? Immigrants have always filled in the “lesser” jobs. It is always heartening to see places where those bridges are crossed and cultures come together.

Addison and I were lucky enough to stop and watch a local art fair. These dancers were from Nicaragua, showing off their traditional dance. Addison, and all kids, could care less where the people come from. When ever dance to starts, the music smooths the gaps and resonates from that one, original source, which we are all a part of.

Coco wanted to make a To Do List for the morning. So, I wrote out the words she didn’t know, and she proceeded to hide in a corner and make her To Do List.

As I worked on the computer, she didn’t make a sound. I could hear pen and pencil rubbing against the tile behind her piece of paper as she worked on the floor. We were both content because when my daughter is occupied, I can dabble at something for awhile.

About ten minutes went by, and she stood next to me and leaned her head against my shoulder. My time was up. When I didn’t pay immediate attention to her, she began to wobble the underside of my upper arm.

What’s that mami? she said.

It’s my flop.

What’s flop?

It’s the fleshy soft underarm of my limb. Even though I’ve lost 45 pounds from the pregnancy (plus a little more), amd no matter how much exercise I do, the flop will not go away. My mother has flop, I have flop, and so too shall you have flop.

She showed me the To Do List. Turns out it was for me. There was a picture of a comb, toothbrush, plate with food, a diaper, and her brother in his high chair tossing food on the floor.

This is what you have to do in the morning mami.

She began wiggling my flop. I warned her: Stay away from the flop. It’s just one thing I don’t want to be reminded of.

Note - this story was originally posted in 2007. As a follow up:
We continue to comb our hair and brush our teeth in the morning;
Coco's original To Do List is a framed treasure I keep in my home,
Addison doesn’t look much like that anymore;
and I still have flop, sort of.

The warm feeling of sand in my toes. It was a lovely thing. It’s the image that pulls many of us, lures us, into a life in paradise. Funny thing, when life takes over, sometimes the beach that lies just over the mountain side can become as distant as it once was.

School, doctor’s appointments, car repairs, budget constraints, and tiredness, get in the way of soaking in that fresh sea air. But it’ll still be there tomorrow, and the next day. Settling into the city life of paradise still has sunshine, palm trees, and the warm breeze.

But I like to close my eyes and remember that it’s there, just waiting for me to come back.

Another woman out there making waves of transformation is Pamela Jo McQuade, speaker and author of Spiritually Rich and Sexy. She says, “My mission is to bring spirituality into mainstream America, thus giving people the courage to seek the truth about their destiines. I feel a passion in my heart that every person has the divine responsibility to bring healing to their body, open their mind to a higher consciousness and fill their hearts with loving intentions.”

Getting to know all these women and their journeys is exciting. At the same time I realize how interconnected we all are. Many of our paths seem to resonate with the same melodies. Tomorrow, I’ll preview the book about a woman who made the 700 mil trek across Antarctica with a group of other women, no sled dogs and no motorized vehicles. That’s an amazing trip to take.

Friday, I’ll be revealing my own book about a personal journey through the wilds of what we in Costa Rica affectionately call, paradise.

I stopped upon a fence post on a warm Costa Rican afternoon to think. I began to think. And think. And think. Then I thought of Pooh. Oh bother, I thought some more.

I decided to run like for the hills, for too much thinking has been the start of too many problems in my life.

Then, I had this weird craving for honey.

Oh bother. It’s always something.

One of my favorite, easy, and excitable activities to do with the kids is go to buy flowers. When the rain begins, we make a dash to the market to find, fresh, blooming, fantastic, and oh so inexpensive, flowers to brighten up our stoop, garden, and inside corners of our home.

Coco was given the choice of two for her very own. She picked a small, dark purple pansie, and a petunia (neither of which I know the Spanish name for). We left, our cart brimming over, with eight, very large plants. The average price was $1.00 per pot, which in the States I recall would have easily added up to triple the price.

We’ll get even more bang for our buck as we spend another afternoon getting a bit muddy and deciding where they all should go. It’s so incredible how simple, yes a little messy, but wonderful the whole project is. Then, the extra bonus is we get to enjoy their beauty for a few months until it’s time to do it all over again.

(FYI: These flowers were found at EPA.)

A long time ago, perhaps we were asked to wipe our shoes before entering or leave our top hot and umbrella at the door. Today, we must be told not to smoke where it will bother others and check our guns at the door.

We’re not cowboys in the wild west. We’re suppossed to have moved beyond that. In the meantime, if you need to shop, be sure you’re not packing.

We always chant to our children to say please and thank you. It rings true in every culture I’ve witnessed. In Costa Rica, please if por favor and thank you, oddly enough, is of course gracias.

I’m not sure we always follow our own rules. So, as a brush up course, I offer this small clip to show how effect please and thank you can actually be.

And after you’ve tried this method and it doesn’t work, at least you looked adorable while doing it. That ought to help the situation some.

The parking lot of the pharmacy is the last place I’d expect to find something new, especially from nature. That’s the kicker of Costa Rica, I will never see it all no matter how long I live here.

These beasts of waxy, yellow were doing their thing and standing tall as hundreds of people passed by. It’s so easy to make life beautiful here. For that matter anywhere.