“Go back to where you started, or as far back as you can,
examine all of it, travel your road again and tell the truth about it.
Sing or shout or testify or keep it to yourself: but know whence you came.”

How can we support the universal call to action to end poverty, protect the planet and ensure that all people enjoy peace and prosperity? I say, we should increase our levels of gratitude and grateful actions.

Children are often the forgotten casualties of war, and the line between friends and enemies isn’t always clear. When I was 16, my father died of cancer. Today, it would be presumed to be related to Agent Orange, the deadly defoliant America dropped on Vietnam during the war, endangering millions […]

My earliest childhood memory is a jumbled concoction of airport images. Rough landings on rocky tarmac and the irritatingly redundant voices over the loudspeaker announcing gate changes. Delayed departure times. Layovers, turbulence and sleeping on leather benches — the arm-rest sharply stabbing me in the ribs. Duty-free perfume samples. Metal detectors. Overweight luggage. Airsick bags. Passport control — my eyes heavy and legs shaky, as I slowly waddle forward in the crowd, waiting for my turn. A deep grumbling in my stomach lets me know I’m either hungry or nauseated.

Denver is near the mountains, not in them. The Mile High City is located on high rolling plains, 12 miles east of the foothills — a series of gentle mountains that climb to 11,000 feet. Just beyond is the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, picturesque snowcapped peaks that rise to 14,000 feet (fourteeners as described by locals). Denver might not be in the mountains, but the mountains still dominate the city.