Something sticky was happening. On our Mercy Corps internal social platform, A hive of stories about honey and beekeeping kept emerging from different countries and continents. I confess, I had never really thought about the fact that honey is harvested almost globally. A little stinger of an idea stuck in my mind. For some reason, I just knew that a story about bees and honey would create a buzz-worthy email for our readers. And the results were stunning — a beeline of opens, clicks and revenue made this our most successful story-focused message in the last few years! It even attracted attention from a leader at Bumble — the dating app company! I love it when ideas cross-pollinate, and I can't wait to share even more stories about honey in the future. Click here to view the email in your browser.It does more than sweeten your tea or toast: From Kenya to Georgia, Nepal to Puerto Rico, honey has the power to help create jobs, boost food security, protect the environment, and increase the inclusion of women and youth in economies.
Whether through the global export of award-winning honey products or as a sustainable livelihood source for small-scale farmers, beekeeping plays an important role in many Mercy Corps programs. [photo] Honey provides a more secure future In Nepal, Kamala harvests fresh honey from her hive. After attending a Mercy Corps training on modern beekeeping, she was able to increase her honey production and income, and can now afford to set aside savings for her future. People like Kamala living in remote areas of Nepal can be more susceptible to food insecurity. Because the factors that cause families to experience hunger are complex, Mercy Corps uses holistic solutions to address underlying economic and ecological stresses. By helping people in Nepal access more diverse income sources like beekeeping, or training rural communities on agricultural practices that can mitigate severe flooding, we increase their resilience against future natural disasters and other shocks. Bringing back the bees In Nepal, farmers have historically relied on harmful chemical pesticides to manage insect infestations. Not only are these chemical pesticides expensive, they also have a significant negative impact on human health and the surrounding environment. Extensive chemical pesticide use over the years led to the large-scale disappearance of honey bees in Nepal, leading to lost livelihood opportunities in many communities. In one year, Mercy Corps trained over 35,000 farmers to use natural methods to manage pests. These less harmful and more cost effective methods have not only helped lower production costs for farmers, they also reduced the human health risks and the negative impact on the environment. As a result, honey bees returned to the area. Farmers recognized the importance of maintaining their environment and are seeing their incomes increase from more efficient and sustainable agricultural practices, as well as from the additional income received from honey production. [photo] A beekeeping revival benefits communities Jara is the name of a traditional Georgian wild beekeeping practice — a centuries-old method of domesticating wild bees in hollowed wooden logs. This sustainable practice leaves a portion of honey for the bees instead of harvesting all of it for humans, helping to preserve bee populations. Jara almost ceased to exist until 2014, when it began a slow revival with a program implemented by Mercy Corps and partners. By creating both a local and global export market, Mercy Corps is creating a positive ripple effect for Georgian communities’ income, including increased interest in local ecotourism. Today, this honey is not only winning international awards for its delicious taste and texture, cleaner apiary practices have significantly reduced the need for antibiotics compared to previous years, setting a higher bar for honey quality as well as bee health. [photo] Resilient bees, resilient people Rafael rescues wild hives of Puerto Rican bees. He inspects the hive boards, bees, and honey while his partner Sonia calms the bees with a smoker. Mercy Corps has assisted them with beekeeping supplies, access to local markets, and help with eco-friendly practices to support their long-term recovery from Hurricane Maria. After Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico, Mercy Corps identified more than 500 farmers, fisherfolk, and beekeepers whose livelihoods were devastated by the storms. We developed solutions according to their unique needs, providing beekeepers with high quality beehives to replace those destroyed by the storm, as well as training and access to global apiary conferences and connections. Over 1,000 members of households will indirectly benefit from this program. Like bees working together in a hive, our team, our local program participants, and global community members like you, we can create something that wouldn’t be possible without our combined efforts. Thank you. — The Mercy Corps team I love June 20th. Full disclosure: it's my birthday. :) This year, it also happens to be the date of World Refugee Day — and Father's Day. I thought I'd combine those last two to create a meaningful reminder of that date to Mercy Corps' audiences. I just knew I'd find inspiring examples of dads doing great things against all odds, and of course I did: Kedir, an Ethiopian refugee in Sudan, Boubacar in Niger, and Antonio from Mexico who now resides in Walla Walla, Washington. (All photos by Mercy Corps)
See images below, or click here to view a web version of the email. Mercy Corps addresses complex crises in more than 40 countries worldwide. As I came across this term, "complex crisis," I became curious: what defines "complex?" This led me to research more deeply into how the international aid world makes the "complex" determination, and how exactly does an org begin to tackle multi-layered emergencies? I thought our supporter audience might be curious about it, too. So I developed this email story that was sent to hundreds of thousands of readers. It gives concrete examples of how Mercy Corps approaches the extremely complex crisis in Ethiopia, and shares a video that outlines Mercy Corps' "how."
(All photos and video by Mercy Corps) See images below, or click here to view a web version of the email. As a member of the digital marketing team at Mercy Corps, I have the privilege of constant discovery. Fellow team mates in 40+ countries worldwide are innovating new programs to improve the lives of children, women, and men — every day. When I came across an internal report of this self-defense program for girls in Nepal, I knew a bigger story needed to be shared on our website and in our email newsletter. I wrote this story with input from the amazing Mercy Corps Nepal team, and the women instructors who provide self-defense training. All photos and video by Mercy Corps. Story editor: Amy Lam Read the story.In my travels to Africa and Asia, I noticed how especially in rural areas and on public transport, people often listened to radio and how it was a unifying force in communities. It was fun for me to write and to do the research for this story and discover the many ways that an NGO like Mercy Corps could tap in to the technology of radio. With COVID‑19 lockdowns and travel bans worldwide, online connection replaced in-person interaction. But how do you learn from home with no smartphone or internet access? Read the full story.Photo by Cathy Cheney for Mercy Corps When I wrote this back in October 2020, the predictions for how COVID-19 would affect women were dire. Sadly, they have come to pass and continue to increase: economic losses and gender-based violence in particular. It was hard to narrow down and categorize solutions offered by Mercy Corps programs, but this article includes how mentorship helps women stay in business, technology connects them to jobs, and at the policy level, including women in peace-building efforts — all can make a difference. Read the story.All photos by Mercy Corps
I struggled with the assignment to write about the work of providing for refugees in winter in Syria. What could I say that hadn't already be said, about the dismal wet and cold (plus new COVID-19 uncertainty) and the heroic efforts of those tirelessly working to improve the situation? I reached out directly to the Mercy Corps team in Syria. Knowing their time is precious, I asked them to just tell me: what does it feel like, taste like, smell like, sound like — to be there, right now? One Syrian team member, whose identity cannot be shared due to security risks, described their experience to me. Their words captured the paradox of hope and despair embedded in their work — despite English not being their first language, I wanted to change these words as little as possible. Combined with recent photographs, I think it is a kind of poem about the nature of being human. Read the story.All photos credit to Mercy Corps
JHCollective is a holistic fundraising consultant, offering authentic and effective strategies for nonprofit development leaders. They wanted a fun, visual way to acknowledge and thank their audiences for their voices and partnership in 2019, and also wanted to share some of the year's highlights and achievements. We created an animated website, shared on social media, in email campaigns, and a LinkedIn article. The piece helped audiences revisit popular posts from 2019, and discover hidden content gems. Views, comments and all-around engagement with the piece were off the charts!
Stirring white crystal sand
of bone meal into rich brown mud, she places each tulip bulb, coated in the dark mixture, a nest of kiss-shaped eggs, close, but not touching. In October’s now, she sees April, sealing it in, pats down the earth, like a sea-turtle burying her offspring. Maybe the bones’ phosphorous will glow a little in that darkness—guiding the shoots upward, as the luminescent sea signals to those baby turtles: This is your chance. Swim. The Last Possible DayOn the last possible day,
at the foot of a leafless tree, try to pop a perfect apple down, hurl a rotten one to loosen that wormless one, stare up, dizzy limbs shake against a still sky-- Breathe. Picture it. Follow through-- Thud of success. Bite sun-warmed, dusty skin into hard white sweetness. Quiet, then frogs buzz. The ears of a doe and two fawns flicker at the tips of golden brush, listening for dusk. #AncientAutumn trees,
chlorophyll-unmasked-- True colors only visible in the brief tilt of October light The house it haunts
is in your hand, bathing your face in its small, square glow-- You didn’t know: your sentence was a seance, phantom tapping from the other side-- flashing ellipses in a bubble: dot dot dot dot dot dot-- I've been following my extremely talented artist sister (@KirstiRingger on Instagram)—her drawing contributions to #Inktober this month are off the charts. I'm late to the game, but decided that I'd use the daily prompts to write something instead of draw, for the last 10 days of the month. My "ink" pictures will be of my very hasty, daily drafts! Today's prompt: #TREASURE. There is a tree that I've been in love with for years, so I decided to write about her specifically. Harlequin GlorybowerAs if it weren’t enough
that in late summer she blooms white fragrant stars, mocking jasmine, extending trembling threads of stamens, blushing shy pink underneath-- As if it weren’t enough that, when bruised, her hand-sized, heart-shaped, hair-soft leaves emit the smell of peanut butter (what insouciance in the face of injury)-- As if it weren’t enough that when her flowers drop, each waxy calyx hardens into a fuchsia tiara, a pointed pink collar-- As if that weren’t enough, inside each crown, She’s Placed The Treasure: a perfect, indigo pearl, an autumn jewel replacing every summer flower, A transaction in the inky currency of winter’s tongue. View the book here as an online magazine on Issuu. (See full copy below.) Visit nwalpine.com. Graphic Design by Andrew Eastman. It all starts with the story.
I wrote and art-directed this booming company's first-ever piece of print collateral. The Vision Book articulates the history and values of this high-end climbing apparel company, dedicated to reviving US economy by keeping production local. It was written to tell the origin story of the business, and to set the tone and company values. I interviewed the founder to elicit his personal story, which was echoed in the story of other founding partners, so we gave it the "we" voice. Text was intentionally kept all lower case to emphasize the brand's values of simplicity and humility. I curated photography and directed layout of the piece. The Vision Book gave the company a verbal and visual brand foundation from which to market, and sales increased exponentially in the first year after its release. Copy: "…the conquest of a great peak brings moments of exultation and bliss, which in the monotonous, materialistic existence of modern times nothing can approach…" -Lionel Terray FIRST/ASCENT from the flat expanses of america's heartland, we forged upstream to the pacific northwest—and fell in love with alpine climbing along the way. ECONOMIC/LANDSCAPE we were blown away by the stunning northwest landscape—from the snowy cascades to the basalt towers of the high desert. but we never lost our attraction to the unique beauty of america's industrial hometowns. watching the flow and ebb of our country's economy—and the decline of manufacturing in the northwest—we sought to help revive it. SIMPLY/INSPIRED combining our passions, we rallied a community of devoted climbers and local textile-industry experts. together, we decided to craft an array of simple, functional apparel—without compromises. northwest alpine was born. MODERN/LEGACY with respect for the history of mountain culture—and admiration for today's alpine innovators—northwest alpine creates exactly what you need to get out into the hills. no more, no less. designed by and for experienced climbers. manufactured locally. every detail is the realization of our dreams. let us help you follow yours.
"Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -- over and over announcing your place in the family of things.
I love swimming. Today I swam laps at my local Parks & Rec: Dishman pool. I hate everything about public pools. But I love swimming—gliding through the water, poetry runs through my head, it's work and at the same time effortless. So even though current circumstances require me to face the cement, chlorine, and adults who are not always nice about sharing their lanes, let's listen to this sweet little song and pretend we are swimming in a summer lake.... "You can splash me if you want to... but not in the eye!"
I was struggling to write #20. Not because there are not enough things to be grateful for, but because there are too, too many. Everything becomes so big sometimes that it becomes nothing, even when you want to appreciate it all. At the last minute, my day was filled with an assignment to write about the work of a global NGO that is on the ground, fighting the urgent new outbreak of Ebola that is taking lives in the Democratic Republic of Congo. It's so scary and overwhelming that it seems to be yet another thing that our hearts and minds can't make space for. So I am grateful anyway, for the freedom to pivot—from writing about certain kinds of gratitude to suddenly writing about Ebola and the heroes working to contain it. That there is at least enough funding from our international community that we can turn towards a new crisis and say: doing nothing is not an option. Yes, we must still help here and here and here, and there is always too much, but still we begin and do our best.
When I was mentally creating my post with the vid of the pebble toad and thoughts about the armor of joyful exertion, I had another simple revelation. Listening to Pema Chodron while I was walking through the cemetery (yes, this is my jam), I heard her say something like, "what do you do when you're in a funk?" Seconds later, I saw a huge headstone with just the name, "FUNK," all caps. And this word keeps getting stuck in my head. FUNK. The truth of feeling low, how it happens to everyone. Sometimes because of great loss, sometimes for no damn good reason at all. And then, how very very close is the word: FUNKY. Which, in my mind anyway, is a great word. Funky is dancing, and not caring how it looks. Funky is getting DOWN—not being down. And I love the fact that at any moment, we CAN choose to change our funk to funky, if we fully accept them both as part of who we are.
Click the image above to listen to Lee Dorsey sing today's theme music by Allen Toussaint. And dance, dammit! If there were an autumn tree contest this year, I think I'd be judging the ginkgo tree as winner every time. Yes, the multi-colored stars of the sweet gum, the lacy poetic Japanese maple, or the terracotta red giant oak all keep taking my breath away. But I'm in love with the ginkgo—the chantrelle/vase-shaped finely ridged leaves, matte finished and opaque like thick butter, clinging to the black branches like a swarm of butterflies, and then piling like royal confetti at her roots... And especially *this* ginkgo, who lives many blocks away from my window, standing out, alone, from a sea of rooftops and dark cedars. As the sun rises, the tips of her branches catch fire until she is singularly illuminated. Yesterday, I decided to try and actually find this tree and see her up close. She was only about five blocks away, and did not disappoint.
(I'm grateful that this tree is placed just so for my appreciation, and I'm grateful to my cowboy poet dad for whom gushing about an extraordinary tree would be very ordinary.) I've discovered a couple of apps that keep me motivated as I run—they help you pace your steps to the beats per minute (BPM) of the music. It's kind of like dancing while you run and for some reason it makes me feel like a badass. The Flaming Lips: Fight Test
The test begins, now I thought I was smart, I thought I was right I thought it better not to fight, I thought there was a Virtue in always being cool, so when it came time to Fight I thought I'll just step aside and that the time would Prove you wrong and that you would be the fool I don't know where the sun beams end and the star Lights begins it's all a mystery Oh to fight is to defend if it's not Now than tell me when would be the time that you would stand up And be a man, for to lose I could accept but to surrender I just wept and regretted this moment, oh that I, I Was the fool I don't know where the sun beams end and the star Lights begins it's all a mystery And I don't know how a man decides what right for his Own life, it's all a mystery Cause I'm a man not a boy and there are things You can't avoid you have to face them when you're not prepared To face them, If I could I would but you're with him now it'd do no good I should have fought him but instead I let him, I let Him take it I don't know where the sun beams end and the star Lights begins it's all a mystery And I don't know how a man decides what right for his Own life, it's all a mystery The test is over, now As I walked, I was listening to one of my favorite authors, Pema Chödrön, a buddhist teacher. The talk was called "The Joy To Do What Helps Us." This is something I think about constantly—the fine line between discipline and what she calls "joyful exertion." Too often we think that we have to strive in a painful, pushing way—tolerating the worst for a scrap of reward. But "exertion" is different. Chödrön talks about how we can create an "armor of exertion." This she describes not as a barricade, but as protection against hurting ourselves and hurting others.
I immediately thought of this video of the pebble toad. (Watch the video and look at his joyful armor of exertion!) I want to be this toad. But yesterday I was just plain grumpy. Tired of things going wrong, feeling achey against the cold weather, just HMMMFFF about it all. Then I got curious: what might make me feel lighter? It was no mystery. I already knew and I already know. I put on my running shoes and all my "joyful outdoors armor," and despite my aching joints, I set it in my mind to run to the freeway overpass and back, and to watch the cars and pretend like I was on a bridge over a river. I have no idea where this specific idea came from, but at the same time it came from a place that I know. It's what Chödrön calles your "bodhichitta"—trust in your basic nature. I ran in the cold as the sun set. It was dark but I could still see the brightness of piles of yellow ginkgo leaves. At the overpass, I watched the cars coming and going. I did a hiking ritual that a friend taught me: look at the water flowing away and let something go. Then look to the water flowing towards you, and ask for something. (My bodhichitta says this works with cars too, if you want.) You know when you're a kid and you just can't WAIT to grow up so that you can do/have/be...something? And then you do grow up, and that something is not what you thought, or has a serious down side to it? Well for me, COFFEE was something I spent my childhood fantasizing about being able to drink. And as an adult? It has NOT disappointed!
To add an extra layer of complication, I was raised in a Mormon home. Coffee was forbidden. (Side note: occasionally my dad would make a hot chicory root drink called Postum, served with lots of evaporated milk and sugar. Why evaporated milk? Can anyone tell me? And what is evaporated milk anyway?) So coffee had an air of danger to it. When I smelled it brewing as I walked past the teachers' lounge at school, or when we'd go to this funky candy shop downtown with bags of fragrant beans everywhere, I felt a tinge of guilt—like when you catch a whiff of a good strong sharpie pen. You know you shouldn't inhale too hard, but there's just something that makes you want to fill your nostrils with it. Fast forward to today. Coffee *literally* gives me a reason to get up in the morning most days. I love how it smells, tastes, makes me feel, and that it gives me a first-thing-to-do ritual. Once or twice I've been persuaded that I should knock off the caffeine, so I've downgraded to decaf—even stopped it altogether for a few excruciating days. But this only served to make life less wonderful. So now I just enjoy my daily addiction. Yes it's a pain when I'm traveling or staying some place where coffee is harder to get. (Oh India mornings... I am sorry but milky, sugary chai is just NOT the same.) But a little portable instant espresso and some hot water solves that problem. Today—and every day—I am grateful for you, magical coffee. |