Cathy Bowman,  July 6, 2007

When I was a child, my mother loaned my doll house to a family who never returned it. With each passing year, that 1960s suburban jewel grew larger and lovelier. The girls who took it grew callous and careless. Did the dolls lose their hair? Did the brick wallpaper survive? I thought I was over it until I went to Windsor Castle and saw Queen Mary's doll house, a lavish palace built in the 1920s. I wanted one again. Desperately. I found mine shoved in the corner of an antiques store. The sofa sat helplessly on its side. A miniature bottle of Blue Nun (I am not making this up) lay on the kitchen floor. Whatever happened to those dolls, it wasn't pretty. So I bargained hard, waited, bargained some more, and brought it home for a pittance. My 7-year-old and I are Mary and Margaret, two elegant, witty sisters. Our frequent house guests including Edwina, the chatty author who talks constantly about her new novel, and Santa Claus. There are no bills to pay, no laundry to do – just lots of lovely little cakes, waiting to be served with a fine wine.

Cathy Bowman,  June 30, 2007

When I lived in the states, I talked to my mother every day. Now tat I'm in England, it's every few days. Turns out I am not alone. Lots of adult women maintain close relationships with their moms – meeting them for lunch, sharing their deepest secrets. Mine gives me a pep talk when I need it, laughs at my jokes and has an endless appetite for stories about the cute things my kids do. What I value most as I grow older are our spiritual discussions. At the moment, I'm struggling with forgiveness – for others as well as for myself. My mom reminds me of the importance of thinking positive – of putting my energy on what I want instead of focusing on what's not working. I've been up the past three nights with a feverish, restless child, and it's hard to feel sunny when I'm exhausted. The sky is elephant grey, just as it has been all week. All the more reason to make time for a little comfort. Sure, sleep and exercise and eating right are important – but so is mediation. Ten minutes a day does wonders. So does spending time with the people I love – even when they keep me up all night.

Tom Murphy,  June 21, 2007

With the summer solstice upon us, it's a good time to reflect on the world around us. The violence in Iraq over the past four years has been horrid as measured in loss of physical life. The damage to the human spirit cannot be measured at all. When mosques - the very symbol of a personal quest for peace - become the targets of bombings, it transforms the argument for war from a struggle for survival to an attack on the soul of those who thirst for peace. When one Muslim sect attacks another, it betrays the very beliefs that both groups hold dear. In the west, we are not so far removed from this kind of violence. Racist lynchings, the legacy of slavery, church bombings, economic oppression and other social hate crimes reflect the American society's failures. Just as we hope the Iraqi sects will find a spirit of tolerance and acceptance, we should also take that path in our daily lives by reaching out with kindness to all we meet.

Cathy Bowman,  June 15, 2007

This Father's Day my dad will be half way around the world eating cake. His birthday also happens to be on Sunday. The man who was born the same year Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic is turning 80. Sure, he's got a walker and arthritis. He doesn't run and he doesn't dance. But he does laugh. He's been married 54 years. He's beaten the odds more than once, which proves to me – not that I needed it – that prayer works. I should be there to celebrate. But I'll be here, helping my girls say goodbye to their germy gal-pal, Madame Pink Eye – and their dad, who is headed off on a business trip. We will honor the men we love even though we are not with them. I will remind my girls of the things Grampy taught me. How to tie my shoes. How to double park. How to fry Dover sole. And we'll remember what their daddy does. Who will read them “The Phantom Toll Booth” this weekend? Who will pull the bikes out of the shed? We will honor two dads for putting in a hard day's work and coming home and working all over again. Most importantly, for being there. Every time.

Cathy Bowman,  June 9, 2007

I was riding my bicycle along the Thames with my family, meandering past Hampton Court and the geese and fluffy goslings swimming down the river under a warm Spring sun and I said to myself, it doesn't get any better than this. My bicycle and I are getting reacquainted after a 15-year separation and we are hopelessly in love. In Marin County, Calif., where I used to live, all the cyclists were either 8 years old or those guys zooming down the road on $3,000 machines. I could never find any room on the path. But here in England, it is lovely and green and flat and there is a place for me – and hundreds of others like me – who simply ride for the pleasure of it. It's easy to get stuck in a groove, even if it's a nice one – same job, same house, same life. Same bike, yes, but once it gets a little help from a guy named Burt, it'll be a brand new baby. My beautiful purple Trek from Berkeley. The Lycra boys? They can have those hills. Here in the flats, riding at my own pace, my life feels fresh and new again.

Cathy Bowman, May 31, 2007

I love a good mystery, and the tale of the Loch Ness Monster is among my favorites. Now comes word that an amateur scientist has shot some of the best footage yet of the water beast that supposedly lurks deep in a Scottish lake. The kids would love this, I said to myself. I was thinking about bagpipes and shortbread and getting ready to check into flights when I realized my toddler might have to sit next to a personal injury lawyer infected with a dangerous strain of tuberculosis. Geez, what was Mr. Speaker thinking by ignoring federal officials' warning not to fly? Airline travel is bad enough these days, what with the regular germs floating around, the yucky food and those blankets my mother reminds me not to use because she saw a story on TV that said they just repackage them between flights. Another reminder that we are all connected and our fates intertwined. And please, when the CDC asks you not to fly, don't be selfish and get on plane anyway. Me? I'm sticking to trains. At least you can open the windows.

Cathy Bowman,  May 26, 2007

Memorial Day is a chance to remember those who have sacrificed their lives for our country. It always fills me with sadness to see those tiny American flags in front of so many gravestones – each one left by grieving friends and families to honor a life cut short. How disappointing that Congress and President Bush have agreed to spend another $95 billion (yep, that's billion, not million) on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. How disheartening that there is still no timeline for ending the conflicts. Think of how far that money would go toward improving our schools, helping the poor, cleaning up the environment – the list goes on. When I get discouraged – and war really makes me discouraged – I take a look at the web site of my favorite spiritual teacher, Angeles Arrien. She's got a list of 50 ways to thrive and survive in the next 10 years. Number 38? Talk to your neighbors. Number 39? Talk to your enemies. Simple steps, but powerful ones – and ones that can make a difference.

Cathy Bowman,  May 23, 2007

As I write this, I'm sitting on a vintage chair that once graced the dining hall of an English university. I got the chair – and five others like it – on Freecycle. Ever heard of it? It works like Craigslist except that everything is free. Our modern looking, 1950s beauties came from a hardworking couple who wanted new chairs from IKEA. Go figure. From a polite young Goth came a country pine bookshelf that now holds my daughter's stuffed animals. From an elderly couple, a wooden puppet theater. It's a great system – you just have to be fast on the keyboard. I've missed out on a 1930s wardrobe, a blender and a teak patio set because someone else read their e-mail first. Of course, there have been a few hiccups along the way. Our first acquisition was a Hoover that belched and coughed like a two-pack-a-day smoker. When we opened the bag, we found a pile of cigarette butts. Goodbye, Mr. Hoover. Still, in these days of dwindling resources, isn't it great to save a few bucks and support recycling at the same time?

Cathy Bowman,  May 17, 2007

I believe in karma. Look no farther than Paul Wolfowitz and Paris Hilton. It's sobering to watch how out of touch these folks are with what the public thinks of them. Both pulled all the strings they can – Wolfowitz, to keep his job; Hilton, to stay out of the slammer. For the hotel heiress, doing a little jail time instead of shopping might be the spiritual experience of a lifetime. OK, maybe that's not fair. Or maybe it is. The point is, every day we are faced with ethical decisions, big and small. Do I point out to a supermarket clerk that he undercharged me? Do I fib about my kid's age to get her free admission to a museum? Do I treat people (yes, even the ones who annoy me) the way I want to be treated?  For me, the Wolfowitz and Hilton scandals are reminders that it pays to do the right thing - even if no one's watching. As my Mom says, what goes around, comes around – in this lifetime or the next.

Tom Murphy,  May 15, 2007

The death of Jerry Falwell marks the passing of a man who mixed his passions for politics with religious extremism. That has never been a rare combination, and it is almost always a divisive one. Most of the wars in history have been fought in the name of one god or another, including the jihad of the Middle East and the Crusades of the Middle Ages. History has shown us these confrontations leave millions dead, waste vast resources, and, in the end, serve political masters instead of any deities.  Falwell used his power as a spiritual leader to drive away his perceived political foes, whether they were gay people who loved one another, pregnant women seeking an abortion, or even - absurdly - the teletubbies of childrens' TV. Shortly before his death, he told CNN he still believes the attacks of 9/11 occurred because god dropped his "shield of protection" around the United States because of its acceptance of gay rights and abortion.  Our forefathers came to the New World seeking religious freedom, a point of view that requires utmost tolerance for all people and all beliefs, including those of extremists like Falwell. We can only pray his life, and his passing, will help document the need to love one another, to accept each other for who we are, and to always maintain the separation of church and state.