Seating Arrangements

Seating Arrangements
©2025 Karla Johnston, Innerconstellation.blogspot.com

Sitting at a restaurant table, looking out at Tahoe sunset
through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.
Colors pink, tangerine against a darkening sky.
Friends show phone pictures of a recent trip to Egypt,
sitting on camels, waving merrily,
speak of Labubu dolls,
and finding them cheap in Japan.
While outside directly behind them,
on the other side of the glass,
a man pulls up on his bicycle,
a makeshift rikshaw,
and walks to the window.
He’s disheveled, in need of a shower.
We lock eyes.
I smile a soft greeting,
he waves, then begins picking through the trash can
positioned against the restaurant wall.
There’s a cage-like contraption over the top
with a small open hole,
making it difficult to pull out the cans and other goodies he collects.
Man doesn’t stay long.
Friends are unaware, their backs turned.
My husband sees, I feel him beside me, an equal softness.

I’m pulled in the direction of True North,
in the direction of compassion for our equally empty lives,
spinning in many directions, trying to survive—not empty like meaningless,
but empty like full of everything there is to experience
in this one life.
Empty: not sad, not happy, not lucky, or down and out—simply precious.

My heart full,
I turn to my friends,
take my husband's hand,
and smile. 

Anxiety Melts

Today was a memorable day. After nearly 2 years of study, my cohort and I were officially installed into the Zen Peacemakers Order (ZPO). What does this mean? Daily dedicated actions that bring peace to ourselves and those around us. This is done in community. 

When the ceremony finished, I decided to dodge the raindrops and drive over to the Presbyterian Church where they do a weekly community feed. I was greeted with warm hugs, exclamations of love, smiles, and a steaming bowl of vegetable soup. Connection, brightness, peace. 

I saw a young woman I hadn't seen in months, and I pulled up a chair to join her. We caught up on singing, her love of music, along with her newest development--using AI to create images that catered to her off-beat, insatiable artistic bent with no judgment, fully embracing all her possibilities. We giggled and interspersed our conversation with riotous AI created pictures. Connection, brightness, peace.  

Connection ~ Brightness ~ Peace

After an hour of catching up and AI silliness, she said, "It's funny...I can be wracked by anxiety, literally unable to sit still, yet when I come here, it melts. A community of loving presence does that some how. 

May we search and find the places deemed unfindable, incurable, misunderstood, and hopeless. May all being be embraced, cherished, and feel worthy of goodness. 

 

 

The Light Inside Everything

Last night, I called my dear nephew to share something meaningful: I’ve been invited to speak in a documentary about my teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh, and how mindfulness has helped transform the suffering of addiction.

“Our story will be shared,” I told him. “And with it, the stories of so many families who’ve struggled and been helped. It’s very hopeful.”

Throughout our conversation, he kept thanking me—again and again, in different ways. He was deeply touched. But the truth is, his suffering has shaped some of my deepest realizations. It’s become the foundation of the most meaningful work I do in my community. Where does he end and I begin? 

There is no clear line. There is no beginning or end.

After our talk, I realized two things. First, despite everything he’s been through, his heart remains whole and good. Unconquerable. I see this in so many people in the recovery space—authentic, hard-won wisdom; it’s what endears me to this population.

Second, the importance of being seen. I know it sounds like a cliché, but it’s true—we need to be seen to be understood. Suffering and joy must be fully seen to be comprehended. There is light inside everyone, every situation. When we consciously see it and speak to it, the light grows inside and around us. Seeing and being fully present is when healing begins. Let’s commit to being there for those we love, speaking to the light inside everything, no matter the situation.  

I write this at 2:28 a.m., awakened by the full moon of July 10, casting a soft glow across the garden outside my window.