JoAnn Saccato

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9/23/2017

My Home Still Stands: A Case for Compassion (Pt. 7)

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Ornate ceramic and stone pieces surround a koi pond in a Valley Fire devastated neighborhood
How does the human mind make sense of the seeming chaos?
I instinctively knew not to get too close to the crippled buck--concerned eyes shone through his protective furrowed brow. If we got too close, feeling  threatened, he would flee--possibly injuring himself further.

As Nathan captured images of a large ashened concrete and brick fish pond, I tended to a half ajar gate leading down to a small earthen pond. Surely the buck would need water and ensuring an easy path seemed the most important thing I could do to increase his likelihood of survival.

The burnt-orange and speckled black koi swam slowly around the rectangular pond--they had survived. We cleared debris off partially submerged fencing used to keep koi predators at bay. Broken chunks of large ceramic and concrete figurines lay strewn about the brick lip of the pond. Obviously a once precisely designed and carefully tended garden space, it now looked quite aged, as if from some ancient civilization. I imagined the owners a well-travel elder gay couple who who returned many times from the Orient, bringing home rare, one-of-a-kind and garishly ornate treasures.

Enroute to our friend's home, undertaking a wellness check as canine companions were left at home on what began as a typical summer Saturday in Lake County, I couldn't help but notice for the first time the haphazard randomness of the fire--homes demolished down to brick, concrete or dirt  surrounded by blackened tree sticks juxtaposed with unscathed homes, tucked and hemmed in with still-thriving green conifers, solemn oaks and thirsty bushes.

How does the human mind make sense of all the seeming randomness--the chaos? Lives in a moments notice forever changed--a small community thrust and scattered into oblivion, never landing in the same configuration again; never to feel the tediousness of day to day life together again; never to experience the security of stable community with each other again.



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10/12/2016

My Home Still Stands: A Case for Compassion (Pt. 5)

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Photographer Nathan DeHart capturing images of the Valley Fire, September 14, 2015.
The next morning I found myself riding alongside my client, friend and photographer, Nathan DeHart. He was on assignment which afforded him access to the cordoned off area. I was hoping to get to my home--to see if it still stood--as well as retrieve the necessities. As soon as we embarked, though, I knew that the opportunity existed to share information--immediately with friends and neighbors living in the area, as well as in the long term, whether through blogs, articles, talks or what, I didn't know.

The ride up Bottle Rock Road, which was close to the ignition point of the tremendous blaze, but the least affected traffic arteries into the area, showed signs of immediate destruction--power poles downed, wires strewn about the roads; helicopters flying overhead dangling their load of water, swaying gently across the hazed sky; patches of scorched earth interspersed with surviving foliage. The choking haze reminded me of  sci-fi movies. Particularly those scenes of landscapes devoid of life due to lethal gases. Were those same lethal gases now choking our lungs, choking our eyes?



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7/14/2016

My Home Still Stands: A Case for Compassion (Pt. 4)

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From L to R: Sarah Fred, Julie Kries, JoAnn Saccato
The hike back to the car was quick--a mere three hours when the trek in took 6+. We stopped, resting and snacking while sitting on the old redwood bench that was deep enough to fit us and our packs. The view was the quintessential north coast on a mostly clear day.

Most of the conversation is still lost to me--I remember attempting to go slow down the steep ravines, but found myself almost trotting, passing up my hike mates. I worked to practice mindfulness--opening my senses to capture the sights, smells, and sensations in the body--but it was a fierce competition with the thoughts roiling around my brain.



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2/16/2016

Personal and community resilience using mindfulness and compassion (Part I)

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(In light of the recent Clayton fire, I'm reposting this blog because so many more in our community will now be experiencing traumatic response to the event. As well, those of us still recovering from the valley fire maybe re-traumatized.)


Is there anyone you know in our community that wasn't affected by the #ValleyFire in the Fall of 2015? Not only was most (if not all) of our community affected, but so many more beyond were touched by the intensity and immensity of the fire. The affected community seems to include the whole world when you consider acts of kindness and generosity.


From a mindfulness perspective, the broadness of impact points to one of the many reasons we bring a compassionate attitude to ourselves and others. If not a fire, then some other painful situation or loss will occur in everyone's life. No one is exempt. And while there are many differing degrees of impact for each community member here in Lake County, we all respond to disasters on a physical, emotional, spiritual and cognitive level.

As those that gave move on with their lives (generosity graciously appreciated!), there are those of us still dealing with the aftermath in some way or another. This many months after, we may be questioning our response and our ability to navigate through our lives at this time.


What determines our reaction? There are so many contributing factors including age, past trauma experience, the degree to which we experienced the disaster, our social supports, the tools we have for working with emotions, and more. While there isn't a one-response-fits-all formula, my recent work with the California H.O.P.E. team in Lake County helps me understand some common patterns of reaction. My experience and research with mindfulness and compassion practices helps me know that these tools, in particular, can assist us in recovering more resiliently, which aids our whole community in bouncing back from this disaster.

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1/21/2016

My Home Still Stands: A Case for Compassion (Pt. 3)

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It's amazing how quickly the mind can forget profound truths. Particularly those that are discovered in exhaustion and under stress. Like the wind that blew through our camp, this attitude and outlook upon the situation drifted out of my mind upon waking in the morning. My mind resorted to trying to figure out all the differing scenarios of possibility.

I had been homeless before upon the ending of a 13 year relationship. Shyla and I spent a year in a tent on a friend's property--it was one of the best experiences of healing and perfect opportunity for connecting more deeply to the Tao of existence. It also was the stepping stone to my living in the cabin for all those years. Was this a bad thing? Quite the contrary! Not anything that I would have specifically chosen for myself, but so deeply grateful the situation presented itself and circumstances were as they were where I had to live there long enough to find the depth of beauty and aliveness that held me there for over 10 years.

Is this the fate that was in store for me again? After three years of setting up home on Cobb, was it all to be gone?


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1/3/2016

New Changes Bring--Well, Changes...

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PictureMeet Greta Mae, my new canine companion
As the dust and soot settles from gentle rains and the holidays slowly pass, a return to routine filled with aspirations can seep back into our days.

My inbox is full of last minute invitations to "transform this" and "fix that". To take advantage of "great deals" and "last minute" sales. While all these offers may be excellent opportunities, for some reason, they seem overwhelming this year.

So, this new year,  I'm inviting my clients, students and friends to:


Drop all concern with the things you are not (or don't have).
Instead, spend time acknowledging, honoring and nourishing
that which you are (or have).


It's not only a good practice that helps rewire the negativity bias in the brain, but it is now part of the training I'm using with my new canine companion, Greta. I'm invited to praise only that behavior I want to see and refrain from negative attention to the behavior I don't want.

Meet Greta. It was almost 3 years to the day of Shylila's passing that we rescued Greta from a Southern California shelter. It's been a huge change full of adjustments, but, as you'll read, she's worth it.

Greta was highly submissive and extremely underweight. She's been a mommy, but now gets to spend time taking good care of herself through healthful eating and lots of exercise. She meets humans easily, will give you her belly in a heartbeat, and enjoys a good soup bone. She immediately laid beside me the first meditation and continues to do so each time. She has some separation anxiety and doggy socialization issues that we're slowly working on, but she's a keeper!

This is the stance I'm taking with myself, too. Regardless of my issues, I'm a keeper. I've gained weight over the past year. (I actually weigh more now than I ever have in my life!) But, on New Year's day, when I heard myself apologizing for my body to Jim, it stopped me in my tracks. Really?!

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12/23/2015

My Home Still Stands: A Case for Compassion (Pt. 2)

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The good thing about camping during the period of not knowing what was happening with the #ValleyFire was that we were kept busy enough with just the basics of living. Sarah and Julie were able to find a sweet, rocky spring fed creek a brief distance from camp while my friend and I rested and set up our tents.

I revealed a perfectly ripe peach that had been sequestered in the dark, protected regions of my sturdy (and heavy!) bear canister. I sliced up the fresh treasure and shared it out, each of us taking delight in the refreshingly moist, cool peachy experience, particularly delicious because of dry conditions at our camp spot, despite being just above the shoreline of the Pacific.

We made a trip back to the spring before sunset, resting our tired feet in the cool running water.

By the time dinner was over I was ready for bed--my body completely exhausted. But my mind was reeling. I hadn't even finished processing the loss of the cabin from the #RockyFire and was still working on the blog recounting that unexpected and profound experience.


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11/9/2015

One Thing I Know is True

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One Thing I Know is True
JoAnn Saccato
(c) 2015

One thing I know is true
Things change
Usually without
My consult
Or consent

Neighbors move
Trees are felled
Pets die
And years go by

One thing I know is true
Things change
Usually without
My consult
Or consent


Ice cream melts
Bodies age
Thoughts and sensations
Arise and pass away

Arise and pass away

One thing I know is true
Things change
Usually without
My consult
Or consent


Moods come and go
Like hawks soaring by
Children laugh and cry
Lovers say goodbye

One thing I know is true
Things change
Usually without
My consult
Or consent


As night to day
I have to say
Things change

So come what may
...




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10/6/2015

Tree Falls

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Tree Falls
by JoAnn Saccato


Tree falls
Earth rumbles
Heart swells
Tear falls

Chainsaw purrs
Tree falls
Earth rumbles
Heart swells
Tear falls


(c) 2015

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9/20/2015

A Life Well Lived: A Case for Mindfulness (Part III)

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[Note: This entry was drafted on the Saturday evening of the breakout of the #ValleyFire when I was camping the Lost Coast with some girlfriends. We heard about the fire through a text received when cresting the 2,000 ft. elevation gain on our grueling 6 hour hike. Out of concern, my friend, Vicki Crystal, texted: "How close is the fire to you? Praying big time."

Each of us on the hike had something in harms way of the fire, whether it was our home or our vehicle or both. We each exhaustedly tossed and turned that night from our remote campsite with no reception.

A hot dry wind blew through the camp around 1:00AM. We were some 150 miles northwest of the fire, but the eeriness didn't go unnoticed.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course! Of course this sacred spot was spared.

I suddenly felt closer to Walter and Shyla as I exerted myself up the steep hill back to the trail. Each step seemed to carry with it hundreds of memories. How many times had I walked this path? Ten years, though, not every day. The first few years, maybe three or four times a week. The latter years, five to seven.


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