Remembering Chris

Today marks the 13th anniversary of my son’s passing.  He died while rock climbing in Yosemite National Park when he was twenty-five.

I remember the year leading up to Chris’s death. Beneath all consciousness, the mystery appeared to prevail. He had visited relatives across the country and had collected his belongings from others. The weekend before leaving for Yosemite, he visited with old friends at the martial arts school that had helped him grow up. Those who saw Chris that year recall his joy, peace, and love.

Looking back, it’s as though, even as Chris lived with all his heart, the Earth couldn’t hold him.  He was two when, on the eve of the birth of my daughter, he discovered stars. It seemed in that moment that a light went on inside him, which throughout life grew ever brighter.  As I wrote in the book Freedom To FallI thought that Chris, if given the chance, would not go back and do anything differently. From the earliest age, he was always breaking out into new territory, new heights, new vistas—new realms of freedom.  You could cherish Chris, but you couldn’t contain him….  

I take comfort in knowing that Chris is where he is supposed to be.  I know not what he is up to, how he serves God.  Only that the love we had is the love we have and the love we will always have. The saving grace in loss is the soul’s endurance.

Chris was a shining example to many whose paths he crossed.  May this day be a reminder that he is with us still, even as his journey (and ours) continue on.


Communicate with Carol or order a book via her website,

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Morning Communion

Allow me to shed concern for the sake of communion—in the heartland of the soul’s silence. May this reverence slip seamlessly like pearls of dew onto the day.

With deepening devotion, missteps grow meaningless. The path overflows: a domed luminosity that contains and leads on.

Communion renders the blessing of hallowed silence. All is well and possible. God has never abandoned; only I have wondered away. Life is redolent of His grace and love.



Life contains scenes, real and imagined, but its tenor sprouts from deeper ground.

All happenings pass away, lost in the vibrancy of some new reality. The importance of today’s luster is ephemeral, a dying ember in the coming of dawn.

Our days are soon gone. Now is the time to cross the divide and explore new lands, bearing witness to experience. In the flowering of spirit, life springs forth—from the treasure trove of truth, the realm of the sacred.

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Forgiveness sparks the soul—

when, in surrender,

I find strength to freely give

the love that God has given.


Love is for giving,

unencumbered by condition—

rendering blessed peace,

relief from stirring hunger.


May we truly spend this life,

with time still left to wonder

how forgiveness, humbly—

inspires the soul from slumber.




Turning from Presence, the path fades away—

until remembering, I follow,

intuiting how and where to step.


The wellspring rings eternal, finding entrance

as I peer through the entanglement—

to the radiance of fertile ground.                          


Presence lights the Way for eyes just awakened—

through the rowdy playing field,

up the still silence of Heaven.





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In Remembrance

Today is Chris’s birthday. He would have been 38. Our love remains, a golden thread spanning the ages.

Chris journeys through the sheer glow of Heaven. A rock climber in life, he now climbs unbound.

Happy birthday, dear son. I feel your humble spirit and the holy heights that beckon. May you drink from streams of milk and honey and be garlanded with stardust. You have my heart, today and always.

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Following God

When attachment gives way to following, intimacy with the moment ensues—a sacred place, where meaning and purpose come through faith.

Following sparks a wellspring in response to God’s calling: This is the unfolding to which I yield; tomorrow is unspoken for. And while the course includes infinite outer expressions, it is an inner, intuitive following, unattached and free-flowing, that is the revered treasure. We remain ever the servant, deeply listening, stepping towards the unknown.

Journeying in the glow of the moment’s abundance connects us to essence. In the spirit of following, we shed definition and become seekers of truth, laying the ground for eternal life.

Meaning and purpose find fulfillment in surrender to God’s Will. In releasing attachment, we open our hearts and redeem a crucial aspect of ourselves—an abiding presence lighting the footpath, infusing life with grace.

Jesus said, “Do not work for food that spoils but for food that endures to eternal life.” John 6-27. Life’s glory is not to be achieved but received through faith.

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Presence of a Son, January 17

Today, my son, Chris, would have turned thirty-seven.

In the morning, I bought flowers and put them in a vase that Chris had given. Later, I stepped out for a walk, a glorious January day—windswept and brilliant.

On the walk I talked with Chris, feeling sublimely his presence. I told him that I was on the cusp of change, ready for a new life that would last until the end.

The breeze whispered, it’s time to let go of plans, ambition, and predictability to embrace life’s boundlessness. Time to step boldly into the unknown and be present for when guidance comes—to lay aside grievances and predilections, responding to what is given.  

I thought about Chris in life: his courage, the gentleness and bigness of his love, the setting aside of “should” and shouldn’t” to pursue his dream.

I considered what I’ve always wanted. When may anticipation or expectation disappear, leaving behind life’s essence?

Surrounded by a January beauty I couldn’t contain, I heard: It’s yours for the taking, with only this moment as ground.

Happy birthday, Chris. Though you live beyond reach, your presence abounds.


Chris died in a rock climbing accident in Yosemite National Park in 2003. The following is an excerpt from my book, Freedom to Fall.

“I am going to live the free life,” Chris told friends on his last trip. He was an outdoorsman. He recognized his passion and pursued it. He knew he had what it takes. He lived simply, without fanfare. He revered nature. He was keenly observant.

Chris also meant that he was going to live life without a scheme. His life was going to be open-ended. He would go wherever life took him and partake fully in the offerings.

When Chris came to me on the second day after his death, he showed me that there are no divisions—not between life and death, being and doing, old and young. He showed me his truth. He showed me he was One.

I am going to live the free life. He meant he was going to live life without walls, in the fullness of light. He was at home in himself and at peace with the world.

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“All’s Well That Ends Well”


It started with a robbery in my Costa Rican home. The swimming pool worker called me outside saying, “Have you seen or heard anyone?” “When?” “Ahorita” (now)! A minute later we were walking together down to the garage, hidden from the house by the garden, where he showed me his open backpack and empty wallet. He’d been robbed. By the time I reentered the house, my purse had been opened, my money gone. So that was the beginning of an interesting week, stressful goings-on interspersed with bright moments.

On the 3th day of the week, I fired my gardener after the demise of a few beloved plants, and Fernando, a humble, lively campesino, agreed to be my new gardener. (As an aside, the tropical garden, in its tenacious, jungle-like growth, overreaches my abilities, not to mention the complex relationship between flora and insects, especially ants. Ubiquitous and among the more intriguing are leafcutter ants, which march off with razor-sharp slices of leaves, as if donning sombreros, leaving behind long trails through the grass.)

On the 5th day, in the same breath as the big sigh of contentment for water shimmering in the pool again, after a month long repair, the pool and irrigation pumps broke simultaneously. No big deal except that the pool guy left town; with the end of the rainy season, the irrigation guy is too busy; I’m leaving for Colorado, and vacationers are arriving in swim suits. (Before you blink incredulously, as in Oh please! please hear me out.)

What I’m building up to is how God puts things in our way purposefully and constantly for our discernment. On the 6th day I awakened, looked around, and thought, Life is where you put your focus.

I thought about how I take little thing to heart and—shall I say it?—turn them into big things. I thought about how much more important the blessing of life is than the events. How just about everything is transitory: If you need a change, wait ten minutes. And how the one thing not fleeting is the one thing to live for: to taste eternity while you live—to feel alive in the moment and to trust that when you surrender, you will be supported, knowing that God knows you better than you know yourself.

Fernando, my new gardener, lives right around the corner. When I had asked him to work for me, he lit up. He could keep an eye on his cows across the way while gardening. He could come and go as he pleased. He could literally “brincar” (hop) from his house to mine. “I should have hired you a long time ago,” I told him, feeling equally pleased. “But now is the time!” he said, suggesting that everything is as it should be.

On the 7th day, I told God that I was ready to make good on the promise to live in His light, adding “as I can,” just in case…. But truly something within had settled, as if a sunbeam had broken through, awakening trust.

I was sitting down to breakfast when a large, colorful form moving about in the berry tree caught my eye. It was a toucan, scooping up red berries by the beakful— a sight I had not witnessed before on my property. That’s it! I thought. Life really is what you choose to pay attention to. And it was as though God were right there, winking at me. I tucked the experience into a place where special memories are kept, as an omen of good things to come.

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