Over the past few years I've seen the Bead People go out and touch thousands of lives.  Maybe for just a moment these little friendly people make us more conscious of being kind, doing good service, thinking of a peaceful world instead of a world filled with strife and dissonance.  It is a small flame, however, and I want to start a big, raging, hot fire of peace that spreads like, well, wildfire.  I want more from myself and more from others.  I wonder if you could help me.  Could we build a community that works together?  Can we meet each other half way?  Can we act in new ways together?  The traffic on this site is building--but I feel alone nevertheless.  We need to meet, you and I.  So, here is my idea.

Send me a little story of something small that you did for another, or for  your family, or for yourself that brought peace to your own heart.  For the month of November, I will post these stories here and at the end of the month, I'll read them all and the "winning" entry will get two free, handcrafted Bead People as a special gift from me.  In fact, I'll name four "winners."  How does that sound?  

'Register and add your story to the "comment" section.  You don't have to be an "activist" to bring peace in the world directly around you.  Teachers--you could make this a class project and have all of your students write about something they did for another that was special.  Let's turn the compass of our minds toward small peaceful actions.

I am really looking forward to meeting you and hearing your stories.

Jamie Lee

This morning I sat down at my little desk to assemble 50 Bead People gift sets that will be making a trip to Italy next month to take part in an international spiritual walk.  Every time I play with these little people assembled from the rag tag jewelry I collect at yard sales, thrift stores, or generous bead donations, I am amazed at all of the people they have touched.  Earlier this month my friend Gaydel sent me a picture of a little Bead Person hanging from the handlebars of a bicycle on its way to New Delhi, India.

Let me tell you more of that story. Gaydel found to cyclists from France hunkering down during a tremendous Wyoming windstorm.  Evidently, they couldn’t ride and they couldn’t hide.  Gaydel (with her enormous heart) loaded bikes and riders into her car (along with her dog, Maxie) and took them back to her ranch to spend the night.  During the evening she introduced them to The Bead People.  They had some fun building their own and read the story, The Wind of a Thousand Years.  They thought that was especially appropriate given their own recent encounter with the mighty wind.

The next day the Bead People got wired to the handle bars of their bikes and off they went.  The couple was on a mission to bike around the world.  Their recent email update to Gaydel (along with the picture) said that they had traveled 19,000 miles so far.  So, the Bead People hitchhiked the distance with them from Wyoming to India.  Her friends wrote, “We can't forget you because we have still your small " poupée. " Look they are with us in India! They are not so clean as they were, but it is normal after a so long travel overseas!”

What is it about these little travelers that people—me included—find so fun and appealing.  I can’t think of any of my creative projects that have given me more pleasure than The Bead People International Peace Project.  Although they are inanimate, they seem to be infused with spirit and the celebration of our common humanity.  I am losing count of how many have gone to how many countries now.  I usually say 7000 to over 35 different countries, but it is probably much more.  This summer alone they have gone to Boys and Girls clubs, women’s retreats, conferences, churches and, of course, a long bike trek.

Do you think that sometimes pure spirit manages to crack through the crust of daily life to bring us something special?  I think it does.  What do you think is trying to come through you at this moment?  Are you listening?  Tuned in?  Ready to carry it forward and out into the world?  If you aren’t sure, you could do a Bead People project in your community or country and see what kind of magic unfolds for you.

The world could use a little more spirit in action.

What can I say?  I love the Bead People.

I wrote this for Korah and Kelsey, my grandaughters--but it is fun for all.

The Bead People Garden, a short story

Korah and Kelsey were sad.  It was raining outside and the sky was gray and dreary.  Even in their bedroom all of their stuffed animals had sad faces.  They tried to dance and sing to make them smile, but all the animals just burrowed their heads into one another or closed their felt and button eyes—which is a difficult thing for a stuffed animal to do.

Korah looked at Kelsey and said, “This will never do.  We simply can’t live in such a gray and dreary world.”

Kelsey didn’t even feel like smiling.  “But what can we do about it?”

Korah reached under her bed and brought out her pencil box which was filled almost to overflowing with beads.  “I have an idea.”

“What?  What are you going to do?” asked Kelsey.

Korah smiled a sneaky smile and said, “Magic.  We need some magic right now.”

Kelsey was getting just a little bit interested.  “Bead magic?”

Korah nodded.

The two girls often helped their mom at her Bead People booth at Jazz in June and the Farmer’s Market.”  Mom was always begging them to create more Bead People.  So many people wanted Bead People that they could never quite keep up.  Their mom said it was a world peace project and it was important to spread them as far and as wide as they could.  The Bead People even came with a story about celebrating all people.

Korah opened the bead box and right on top of the mound of beads was a flat yellow bead with a smiley face on it.  It looked like a tiny sun.  She picked the bead up and held it high up in the air.  She made a poem.

Oh dear sun so high in the sky

Will you tell me why, why, why

You have hidden your warm light

Until we feel it is the middle of the night.

Kelsey laughed.  “That was pretty good.  My turn.”  She took the yellow disk and stood up and began turning in a very slow circle.  She chanted

You are the one, our dear, dear Sun

You are the one who carries the fun

Please, oh please will you come

And shine and shine until the world is one?

All of a sudden their bedroom window began to glow with a bright, yellow light.  It had been days and days since they had seen the sun.

Korah squealed.  “We did it, Kelsey.  We did the magic words and the sun has come out.”

It didn’t take long for Korah and Kelsey to put their shoes on and head out to the backyard.  Kelsey grabbed the bead box on her way out.  She had a funny feeling about this day—and it was only morning.

Outside the ground was wet with the new spring rain.  Korah and Kelsey looked up, and the sky seemed to shimmer with rainbows.  There was not just one thin rainbow—it was as if the whole sky was one giant rainbow and they were standing in the center.

“Wow,” said Kelsey.

“Wow,” said Korah.

They smiled and together they said, “Double wow” and hooked their pinkies.  After all, they were identical twins.

Korah said, “Come on.  To the tree.”

The summer before they had transformed the backyard into a carnival complete with rides and games.  It didn’t look so great now after lying under the mucky leaves and snow all winter.

“Yuck,” said Kelsey.  “It’s kind of a mess back here.”

Korah laughed and said,  “Never mind.  We will make it beautiful again.”

Little did she know that the same magic that had allowed a single bead to bring back the sun was still at work in the world on that particular Saturday morning.

In the backyard was a big tree.  The previous summer they had finally gotten tall enough to climb it.  Now they had just turned ten and it was even easier.  Korah went first.  She turned to offer a hand to her sister.  Just as Kelsey got to the highest branch, her foot slipped.  The bead box that she had been keeping safely tucked under her arm went flying.

It was like watching a weird 3-D movie in slow motion.  Thousands and thousands of beads came flying out of the box and into the air at one time.  The sparkle was amazing.  Each bead seemed to grab the sunlight and tuck it into its center.  The beads seemed to be suspended in air, alive and shining.  And then a single strong gust of wind grabbed the beads and, in a single instant, scattered them across the entire backyard.

Both Korah and Kelsey were speechless for a whole minute—which hardly ever happens.  Then Kelsey giggled.  “Whoops,” she said in a tiny voice.

Korah busted out laughing.  She laughed so hard she almost fell to the ground.  When she could catch her breath again she said, “Whoops.”

The two sisters grinned at each other and said, “Double whoops.”

The girls knew without anybody saying it that there was no way they would be able to pick up all those beads again.  They had gone to the earth.

Kelsey said, “Mommy is going to be mad.”

Korah nodded.  “Ya think?”

They climbed down the tree.  Their mom was at work until 3:00.  Together they decided to write a note of apology and explain what had happened.  And they decided it might not hurt to do a few extra chores

They spent the next two hours cleaning and putting stuff away.  Kelsey ran the vacuum and Korah mopped the kitchen floor.  When they finished they were tired and decided to have a little nap.

When they went to their bedroom they saw the strangest thing.  Every single one of their stuffed animals were staring at them—and smiling.

“What?” said Korah.

“Double what?” said Kelsey.

It was almost spooky.

Korah looked at Kelsey.

Kelsey looked at Korah.

At the same time they said, “The magic.”

No one can ever say what exactly happens in the minds of twins, but all of a sudden they were both heading out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and out the back door.  When they got outside, Korah (she was born three minutes earlier) stopped so suddenly that Kelsey ran right into her.

“Korah . . . .”

The two girls stopped and looked.  Under the giant tree the spilled beads were sprouting.  Tiny leaves and stems were grabbing at sunshine.  Right before their eyes, the beads began growing.  An inch.  Another.  Five inches.  Every place a bead had fallen to earth there were bead sprouts.

But this was not at all like the time Grandma had come to visit and they had planted strawberries by the back door and zucchini plants by the front door.  Those plants had taken forever.  These bead sprouts were growing at super jet speed.

Korah and Kelsey sat down on the little step to watch them.  They couldn’t believe what they were seeing.  The plants were now knee-high and tiny blooms were forming.  Each bloom was the shape and color of the beads that had scattered.  All they could do was sit and watch the magic grow.

Korah was the first to find her voice.  She leaned forward and said, “Do you see what I see?”

“I see beads that are blooming,” whispered Kelsey.

Korah got up on her knees and moved closer.  She pointed to a single deep purple bead bloom.  “Look!”

Kelsey crawled over next to her to get a closer look.  The bead was changing.  It wiggled and wobbled like a purple water drop.  Then the bead split into two beads and then three.  It wiggled again and small arms and legs began protruding from the bead body.

Suddenly, hanging from the plant was a little Bead Person.

Kelsey sighed.  “I can’t believe it.”

The girls listened and heard a humming sound—like bees—and then a splash, a plop, a pop.  They watched as dozens and dozens of little Bead People burst from the bead blooms.  It was beautiful—the colors and shapes and sizes.  Some were fingernail polish red and black and white.  Others were mixtures of purple, green, sunny yellow, pumpkin orange, watermelon pink.

Kelsey reached out a finger to touch one, and its tiny feet seemed to dance atop her finger.  “I really don’t believe it.  We have grown a garden of Bead People.”

Korah laughed.  She couldn’t remember ever being this happy.  “The magic did it—it can change the whole world!  Or maybe we are still upstairs taking a nap and we are only dreaming this.”

Kelsey looked at her sister.  “No.  This is real.  They are real.  Oh, look, there must be hundreds and hundreds.  Wait until Mommy sees this—she is going to croak.”  She reached out her hand again and plucked the Bead Person from the bush.  It practically hopped into her hand.

Soon Korah and Kelsey were filling a basket full of Bead People.  When they were so tired they could hardly wiggle, they both flopped down on the still wet grass and lay on their backs.  They stared at the shimmering sky.  “Magic is cool,” said Kelsey.

“Yeah.  It sure is,” Korah agreed.

They were quiet for a long, long time and then Korah said, “I have the perfect idea . . . .”

It only took an hour or so to seed the entire neighborhood with beads.  And what a site it was to see the Bead People sprouting from cracks in sidewalks, under porches, beneath giant trees, lining the driveways.  Korah and Kelsey could hardly wait to see what would happen when everywhere you looked, all you could see was Bead People.

Little did they know that that very same wind of a thousand years that had mixed us all up was the very same wind that would now carry the Bead People and their message of peace around the world.

(Note:  Please do help us grow our Bead People garden.  Visitwww.indiegogo.com/the-bead-people-on-the-go-g0 orwww.thebeadpeople.org)

The other day I was at the Cabin Coffeehouse in Bemidji.  I met a new friend for the first time and was jazzed about all that we had in common.  Just as I was getting ready to leave, I saw a father and his little girl trying to resolve the restroom dilemma.  Dad wanted to take her into the men's room, but the little girl was not okay with that.  She was probably about 4 or so and smart enough to know the difference.  I offered to go into the women's room with her, and the girl agreed that would work.  She had on a little pink dress that looked like a ballet tutu--very cute.  She did her business, washed her hands carefully and then we went out again.  Dad was so thankful that I had helped out. Just for fun I went and got my little bag of Bead People from our peace project and let her choose one.  Unfortunately, I didn't have any more of the story books with me, but she picked out a sparkling little Bead Person that perfectly matched her dress.  It was sweet.  

As I was leaving I heard the dad tell his little girl that this was a "random act of kindness."  

I liked that.  I can count the many times that a stranger has helped me out.  I sometimes think there is a road angel who, every time I have a flat tire or car trouble, he (or she) sends me help within five minutes.  The news would have us distrust all strangers—but sometimes we need help.   Living in constant fear of the bad guys is not for me. 

I decided a long time ago that the only way to fight our fear of strangers is to be the stranger.  I don’t want to wait for that moment of crisis when I need help and a kind stranger comes through for me.  I want to be the stranger.  I am working to widen my field of awareness and be a bit less self-obsessed and a lot more observant.  I look for ways that I can help someone else out.  It doesn’t have to be jumping off a bridge to save a drowning child—although that is certainly a worthy move.  Personally, I tend to notice Moms trying to navigate the world with a baby, car carrier, diaper bag, purse, and too much on their minds.  If I can hold a door, remove an obstacle, or entertain a toddler while Mommy pays for her groceries—I do it. 

We could all be on the lookout for ways to be the kind stranger.  It doesn’t cost anything.  It takes little time.  And it doesn't just help the person receiving the gift—it makes us feel good, too.   I’m concerned that we seem to becoming more and more isolated from one another.  I grew up in the tiny mining town of Babbitt where community was everything.   We were isolated already by being so far north and dependent upon one another.  The mom’s in my neighborhood spent their days helping one another in all kinds of ways whether it was a hot cup of coffee across the kitchen table or watching each other’s little ones. 

I remember when my son was just a tike we lived in this big fenced neighborhood in Tucson.  One day I caught Tom and the little boy next door playing through a knothole in a fence.  That seemed so sad to me that I moved a few months later into a trailer park full of kids. 

I want to be the stranger.  I want to be the kind of stranger who plops a quarter in someone’s expired meter, who opens a door and holds it until that person in a wheelchair or that harried mom has cleared the door.  I want to be the stranger who resists coming down on the waitress when my food is cold or the service slow.  I want to be the stranger that smiles at someone realizing that once we have exchanged a smile and a greeting, we are strangers no more. 

 I want to be that stranger.

Mother's Day.  Blessings and best wishes to all of the women of the world!  

Today I was at the Cabin Coffeehouse in Bemidji, MN.  I met a new friend and then as I was getting ready to leave, I saw a father and his little girl trying to resolve the restroom dilemma.  Dad wanted to take her into the men's room, but the little girl was not okay with that.  She was probably about 4 or so and smart enough to know the difference.  I offered to go into the women's room with her and the girl agreed that would work.  She had on a little dress that looked like a ballet tutu--very cute.  She did her business, washed her hands and then we went out again.  Dad was thankful that I had helped out.  I went and got my little bag of Bead People and let her choose one.  Unfortunately, I didn't have anymore story books with me, but she picked out a sparkling little Bead Person that perfectly matched her dress.  It was sweet.  As I was leaving I heard the dad tell his little girl that this was a "random act of kindness."  

You are Invited!

The Bead People kindly request your presence at the making of a new world where people celebrate their differences instead of fighting over them. To attend this event, you are asked to check your coat and the following items at the door. Guns, knives, and fists Generational mistrust or pain The closed off heart Any righteousness Your small child view of the world We look forward to seeing you at this special event--it may take a decade or two. Black tie not required. Politicians may attend if they comply to the above requests.

To accept this invitation please visit www.thebeadpeople.org and register on our site. Send this to ten people in the next 24 hours. Nothing special will happen to you, but it will make you smile for maybe ten seconds. You do not need to reply to this email.

Sincerely, The Bead People International, Inc. 

 PS Pay no attention to Jamie Lee. She is just the person behind the curtain 
or visit her blog at www.jamieleeonline.com for more ideas on creating the life you want.

A while ago I had an email from a nice woman, Julie Roberts, who also believes that art and creativity are the path to peace.  She is a big thinker, like me, who is audacious and outrageous enough to believe that the simple actions of ordinary people can create peace in the world.  Her site, One World Art, invites contributors to come and hang out together.   Although she just launched it, it is already filled with interesting people doing interesting things. 

I know there must be more of us who are foolish enough to believe we have something to contribute.  I think I will start a viral message today that says “The Bead People kindly request that you lay down your guns, your jealousy and anger, and that you open your wounded heart again so that it can fill with the one thing that really matters—love.”

Love is not item or action.  Love is not even emotion.  Love is the energy that fills the spirit, drives creation, connects one lonely soul to another and, most importantly, makes you feel like smiling again.  Say these words or something like them to one other person today . . . . 

I love you because of your laughter. 

I love how you are different from me

and I love how you are the same. 

I love the way your hair sits on your head and

that funny way you have of bending your neck when  you are confused. 

I love the way you encourage me

and I love the way you piss me off in such a way that gets me moving again. 

Love is creative—it likes to bring fresh new things into being

It sees a new view on an old canvas. 

Love feeds the spirit.  Love feeds. 

If you get a call to peace in your email, pass it on.