Hasta La Gadget!

Even understanding, as I do, that the expression of emotions is normal, healthy and important in the emotional intelligence development of a child, my motherly instincts still seek to offer comfort and support to my children when they are upset.

I want them to know that I am there for them, that I hear them and that I understand. More than that, I want to wrap my arms around them and hold them tight, allowing their tears to soak into my shirt. I want to be able to soothe their cries; be a source of comfort for them in their time of need. I want to stay close to them to be able to dry those tears when the emotional wave they are riding has passed.

But I am learning that when that wave strikes, timing is critical when it comes to being able to offer comfort and in some cases, when they are in the throws of emotional distress, comfort is the last thing they want or need.

Sometimes the emotions spilling over are not a direct result of the main event contributing to the outburst. Sometimes, the hurt goes deeper and further back through the day and sometimes weeks. Sometimes, the child in distress needs to ride that wave all the way into shore before achieving the full feeling of therapy that a good cry can enable.

Sometimes, the comfort we provide them is a like a life raft seeking to rescue them from the depth of their wave prematurely. Sometimes we need to remember that our children do not need to be rescued from their wave, that they are more than capable of riding it through to the end and sometimes this is exactly what they need to do to feel better and move on.

The other day, I followed my distressed 3-year-old, Penny, into her bedroom. She screamed at me to go away, swiped her ‘lamby’ (security blankey) angrily out of my arms before picking it up and throwing it out her bedroom door. As she then tried to squeeze herself into a small gap between her dresser and her cupboard to get as far away from me as possible, I had to remind myself that there was a valid reason for her once again rejecting my offers for comfort. It wasn’t personal.

I have a good relationship with Penny. We enjoy each other’s company and have a deep and close connection. In this instance she was upset because her sister had told her she would never, ever, ever be her best friend again, which I get. That’s hard to hear. She hears it often as immaturity restricts my eldest from coping with her own disappointments without feeling the need to cause her sister to feel the same hurt.

In other instances, it could be that she has slammed her finger in the sliding door, or dropped a book on her toe or in some cases she could be upset because I have had to enforce a limit and she has had to do something she has not wanted to do. In the latter cases, I can fully understand why she would be angry with me and not desire my comfort, but even in the other moments, she is perfectly right to stop me comforting her.

You see, some of it is to do with her personality. She is quite introverted and likes being in her own company. Her need for personal space when playing with others is usually quite significant.

But, more than this, sometimes she simply wants to cry; she needs to cry. She does not want to risk having something make her feel better prematurely, before she has had a chance to tap into the therapeutic benefits of a good. long cry.

We are used to living with an emotional child. Penny’s older sister, Lucy, wears her heart openly on her sleeve. She expresses her emotions clearly, fully and without reserve. There is rarely a question over what is ailing her as there is normally very little delay between when she first feels the emotion and when she has let it out for the world to hear.

Her emotional waves are steep, peaking much like a shallow ocean wave does before dumping down onto the sand below. Lucy usually seeks out comfort from her waves. They scare her and she likes to feel safe and secure whilst she is on the ride. Once the wave has crashed, however, she is over it and you could be forgiven for thinking you had imagined the whole thing, such is the change in her demeanor.

But, while Lucy’s emotions come out regularly throughout the day in short, sharp bursts, Penny often sails through the day on much calmer waters. There are small peaks and troughs, but most of these cruise by her without incident. It is not that she does not experience emotion at these times, she just keeps it in check, preferring to store it inside rather than release it as her sister so confidently does.

It is therefore important to Penny that when she finally does get a chance to release those emotions, she is free to do so fully. She has to make the most of these moments. When she hits her emotional wave, it swells bold and wide like the swollen waves you might find in the deep water on rough seas. There is no real peak to speak of and no inevitable crash.

Often, when the end of her wave is nearing, Penny will stop crying out momentarily, distracted by her surroundings, which are now taking over her once clouded vision. She will then desperately try to claw her way back onto her wave, forcing out more cries, loathe to let it end too soon.

The difference between the emotional expression of my two daughters is extreme. While one is happy to release her feelings regularly and seeks comfort, liking to be held while she works through them, the other feels the emotions but keeps them inside. She then waits for an opportunity later to let them out all at once.

She does not want comfort at this time, lest it cheer her up before she has a chance to rid herself of them all. I just need to stay close by and let her know she is understood, but respect her need to cry and accept that her rejection of my comfort is healthy and important for her own emotional healing.

When I know her wave is long gone (normally because she has started to engage in play), I will go to her and offer her my arms. They will always be there for her when she is ready for them. It’s all about the timing.

You might also enjoy reading:
Coping With a Toddler’s Emotional Outbursts ~ Kate Russell (Peaceful Parents, Confident Kids)

When Extreme Emotions Take Over a Toddler ~ Kate Russell (Peaceful Parents, Confident Kids)

Supporting an Emotional Child: A Step by Step Guide for Parents ~ Kate Russell (Peaceful Parents, Confident Kids)

Braving the Silence (The Secret to Nurturing Emotional Resilience)  ~ Janet Lansbury (Janet Lansbury – Elevating Childcare)

— This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

On May 9, 2015, Valarie Kaur delivered the 100th commencement address at the College of Saint Benedict, a Catholic liberal arts college for women. Kaur is the first commencement speaker of the Sikh faith in the College’s history. She addressed the Class of 2015 on Mother’s Day weekend.

President Mary Hinton, professors and staff, family and friends, and the College of St Benedict’s Class of 2015, it is an honor for me to address you today. On a bright day like this, not so long ago, I was sitting in your place, my heart wide open, the future spread before me like an unknown horizon.

Today I come to you as a new mother, my son just a few months old, so I must begin by naming the love that has made this moment possible, the same love poured into you by those sitting behind you. I did not understand the true ferocity of this love until the day I gave birth, my mother’s hand on my head while she whispered in my ear, “You are brave. You are brave.” When Kavi was born, holding him in my arms for the first time, I knew that I would give my life for him. That’s what love does. It quiets the “I.” It makes you fearless.

After it was over, my husband said that he didn’t think it was possible, but he loved me more. “Are you sure?” I asked. I mean, wild things happen to you during labor, things spill out of you, things you want no one to see. “Yes,” he said, “It was the most selfless thing you’ve ever done.”

In that moment, I saw my own mother with new eyes. I saw all the ways she had poured her body, breath, and blood into me – selflessly – from my birth to my son’s birth. My mother stayed at home to raise me and sent me out into the world, so that I could live the life she was denied. I thought I wasn’t supposed to be like her. But all this time, she was showing me the kind of love that inspires true service – love no matter the outcome, love no matter whether we are thanked (ask your mothers if they raised you to be thanked), a love so deep you would give your life for it.

Class of 2015: We are a generation of women – thanks to so many of our mothers – who now have a choice about how to offer up our lives. So I have come here to ask you: To whom will you give your body, your breath, and your blood?

Because on the same day, at the same time, that I was giving birth, people were marching across the country to protest the killing of black and brown bodies, hands up, chanting “I Can’t Breathe.”

Because when Kavi was only eight weeks old, I had to take him to his first candlelight vigil, mourning the lives of three college students, all Muslim, shot in the head in Chapel Hill by a man who despised religion. I imagined my son your age one day – a young man with brown skin – and I couldn’t breathe.

Because on this day, the day of your graduation, the bodies of children are lying beneath the rubble of the earthquake in Nepal without chance of rescue; families are mourning the dead in the wake of another ISIS bombing; justices of the Supreme Court are debating the future of millions based on the gender of the person they love; and from Ferguson to Staten Island to Baltimore, the streets are on fire with people angry and aching for recognition that black lives matter.

Those who love you may want to protect you from these flames. They might want to build strong walls around you to keep you safe. Staying within these walls is the temptation of privilege – a privilege afforded by the diploma you are about to receive. Your diploma, which should open the world, can also blind you to everything except your own security, salary, and status. Society will not judge you harshly for this; it will even exalt you. And yet, that is my greatest fear for you.

For Students of Saint Benedict, I have sat among you and listened to your longing, and you are meant for more than a life of comfort. You are meant for a life of meaning. Staying within the walls that others build for you may make you feel safe, but its emptiness will breed despair. In the meantime, the fires of life will never stop calling for you.

So here and now, I beckon you to face the raging fires in the world – and walk through the flames with love as your compass. The path of service is not safe. You will find your heart broken again and again. You will wake in the night with ghosts from your dreams lying beside you. You will watch comforts you once held dear will disappear. But as your own life flares up, its meaning will become a beacon to remake the world.

Let me show you what I mean.

When I was a college student, the fires raged high. Terrorists crashed planes into the Twin Towers, and still shocked by the horrific loss of life, I watched the television screen flicker with the picture of our nation’s new enemy. A chill spiked through me. The man with the turban and beard resembled my Sikh brothers and uncles.

In that instant – even though my family has made America home for over a century, and even though the Sikh faith, like the Muslim faith, is a religion of Oneness – we were cast as automatically suspect, perpetually foreign, and potentially terrorist. Hundreds of hate crimes broke out on city streets across America. A few days later, a Sikh man I called “Uncle” Balbir Singh Sodhi was murdered by a man who called himself a patriot. I wanted to run and hide. And I did.

For days after 9/11, I stayed in my childhood bedroom and buried myself in books. Which ones? The text of our generation: Harry Potter. I have always been ashamed to admit this, but now I see why it appealed to me so much. There was power in a story about a band of young people who faced the Dementors of their world and wielded their own kind of magic. This magic began to feel to me like love. Harry was not the smartest or the strongest, but he was brave.

When I finally put the book down, the prayer my grandfather taught me as a little girl rose to my lips: Tati Vao Na Lagi, Par Brahm Sharnai. It is a Sikh prayer of Guru Nanak, a prayer of fearlessness my grandfather had recited under a rain of fire in World War II.

What would it mean to be brave like that?

I didn’t know.

As a girl growing up in California’s Central Valley, my friend Brynn and I were kindred sisters. We used to sit at the edge of the peach orchards at dusk and dream of escaping the dust of the valley. We talked about our lives as a quest. “Life begins in departure,” Brynn once wrote.

So in the wake of 9/11, I decided to leave the safety of the university. I grabbed my camera and embarked on a trek across America to film people who had endured hate violence, so that that their stories could help end hate and inspire healing.

This experience was the beginning of the rest of my life as an activist and storyteller, a lawyer and filmmaker. But the journey only began when I decided at twenty years old, to leave the safety of the walls built around me – and follow my calling into the fire.

And this is how those fires can burn:

In the Sikh Temple of Oak Creek, Wisconsin, where a white supremacist opened fire on Sikh families on a Sunday morning, soaking the carpets with blood, I watch two brothers Kamal and Harpreet sit down in the spot where their mother was killed – and pray for the souls of all who died, including the soul of the gunman. From them, I learned that forgiveness is not forgetting; forgiveness is freedom from hate. Forgiveness became my calling.

In a Catholic Church on the eastern corridor, I watch Marcia and Pedro step out from the shadows to challenge police brutality, pulling back neighbors’ sleeves to show the scars. From them, I learned the razor courage required to remake our laws, not as swords to strike the fallen but as shields to protect the most vulnerable. Justice became my calling.

In the supermax prison of Connecticut, Pete sees the prisoners he guards as animals, and Misael sees the guards of his cell as executioners of his living death, and from them, I learned that we can no longer divide the world into victims and aggressors; we must remake the institutions and cultures that diminish and divide us. Empathy became my calling.

On the shores of Guantanamo Bay, where we have incarcerated brown bodies for years without trial or charge, I listen to soldiers whose names I cannot say – young soldiers of our generation who are your age – tell me they have inherited wars not of their own making. Ending them became my calling.

And in the impoverished corners of this country, I watch mothers like Ros wipe away tears for their young black sons who they fear could be taken from them at any moment, and from them, I learned to look upon the faces of those who are different from me – Black or Latino or LGBTQ – and see them as brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, yearning for dignity in a world that has long denied it. It became my calling to say: “All lives matter.”

All lives matter.

It’s a simple statement. But when you let your life be claimed by this truth, callings are revolutionary.

In the Sikh tradition, there is a story about a woman warrior of the 17th century named Mai Bhago. Forty soldiers abandoned their post in a great battle, the story goes. But she told them: “You will not hide from the fire. You will return to the fight – and I will lead you.” And then, donning a turban and mounting a horse with a sword in her hand, she led them when no one else would. Mai Bhago not only heard her calling; she became the calling.

So I ask you: Who is calling you? Whose calling will you become?

Living a life of calling requires a warrior’s courage.

“Courage is fear that has said its prayers,” says Bishop Gene Robinson, who as the first openly gay bishop in Christendom, has faced threats to his life in order to fulfill his own call to serve.

And it’s true.

In my most fearful moments – when I found myself behind bars after a protest, my arm badly twisted by a police officer; or facing the barrel of a gun in an empty park for choosing to love a man of a different faith; or looking into the caskets of men and women who look like my family; or in the throes of a hard labor – my grandfather’s prayer always spills from my lips: Tati Vao Na Lagi, Par Brahm Sharnai.

“The hot winds cannot touch you. You are shielded by the Divine.”

The hot winds cannot touch me. No matter how dangerous or deadly, the hot winds shape a space that is holy within me.

“I know that feeling,” Bishop Robinson tells me, “It is the sacred place within me where God lives, a place no one can touch.”

“I know that feeling well,” says Sister Simone Campbell, the leader of Nuns on the Bus who travel the country to inspire people to fight for social justice. “I know it from the story of God speaking to Moses through the burning bush. We are called to be this bush where God can flame up in our lives, and we can set our people free.”

“I know that feeling, too,” says my friend Eric Parrie, who just returned from law school to help rebuild his home city of New Orleans. “It reminds me of the Hebrew story of Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego who were thrown into the fiery furnace, but God was with them and the fires did not consume them.”

Across traditions and times, I continue to find this treasure of truth: The hot winds cannot touch you. The fires cannot consume you. Not when you protect that sacred space in your heart filled with love – however you describe it source: God or the Cosmos, your grandfather’s prayer or your mother’s voice. That kind of love calls you to courage. It keeps you on the quest. That kind of love whispers in your ear, “You are brave. You are brave.”

Class of 2015: You are brave. You just need to believe in your own calling – wherever it leads you after graduation: law school or the urban farm, the consulting firm or the classroom. Your sisters here can be your best support. Even after all these years, the sisters I found in college help me hold fast to my callings.

So in the tradition of commencement speeches, here are a few pieces of advice we can offer you:

• Collect a treasure chest of scriptures, that is, the poems and songs and stories that inspire courage wherever you need it, whether in the birthing room or on the battlefield. Mine has Guru Nanak and Harry Potter.

• Hold “vision meetings,” with your best friends; brainstorm pictures of your best self in the world and help one another live into them. Do not let others colonize your moral imagination.

• Train with your sword and shield. No one goes into battle bare-handed. Choose your modern-day arms – law degree or film camera, artist brush or scalpel – and call upon their formidable power. You have the world in the palm of your hand – the open Internet as a ready space to create, connect, and practice with other woman warriors.

• Honor “justice sabbaths,” meaning, set aside days when you hide your phone, tape over the clocks, live apart from the numbers, and spend time in sacred places, whether in a church or temple, on the ocean or deep in the woods, so that you can “listen… with the ear of your heart,” as Saint Benedict teaches us.

• Embody the life you wish for everyone you love: weave joy into every new day. My best friend Jessica and I do that together. She is a scholar and I am an activist, but when we get together, we bake scones, tend to our gardens, ride our bikes, gaze at the stars, search for dolphins in the sea, and dance. The way we make change is just as important as the change we make – not over depleted dead bodies, but with alive and nourished spirits.

• Seek harmony, not balance. The idea of “balance” has never been useful to me, as if I could cut my life into pieces and measure their worth on a scale. At the same time, whenever I have tried to “lean in,” I’ve fallen down. I want to stand up straight, grounded in the earth, and pour my love into my partner, children, friends, family, and the communities I serve. I want to gauge my success by how well I have loved. I don’t want balance. I want harmony. I want to let my life flare up. I want to let my life sing. I want to hear your life sing. Because everyone’s song is a symphony.

• Finally, treat each day as a single lifetime. When my grandfather was on his deathbed, the Parkinson’s taking his body whole, he was fearless as ever. He died with a smile of surrender. His dying was my final lesson. So before I go to sleep, I think of the day as an entire lifetime containing both joy and hardship. I praise it and then let go with all the gratitude I saw in my grandfather’s face. In these moments, I know that I am enough. I know that you are enough. Practicing fearlessness in the face of death can teach us how to be brave in life.

Class of 2015: Bravery is your birthright.

So before you walk up on this stage to accept your diploma, there is just one last thing we must do, a practice I learned from my college mentor Dean Tommy Woon. Your diploma will honor the achievements of your mind. Now let us honor the bravery of your body.

Your bravery lives in your throat. Touch your throat. May your throat know its architecture as a sanctuary for the sound of words, even when your voice trembles; your song is singular and necessary on this earth.

Your bravery lives in your eyes. Touch your eyes. May your eyes always see the faces of the people you serve, for they are each a stitch that will bind you to the path of love.

Your bravery lives in your ears. Touch your ears. May you always listen for your calling – those moments when your deepest longing meets the world’s needs.

Your bravery lives in your feet. Feel them on the earth. May your feet move you into places wherever love calls you, even where the flames may be the highest.

Your bravery lives in your hands. Open your palms. May your hands know their ability to create out of nothing – Yesh me-Ayin in the Jewish tradition – for the world needs art and antidotes that do not yet exist.

Your bravery lives in your core. Place your hands there. May every cell in your body know that it contains the selfless love of the long line of women who have birthed you. Knowing this, you will never be alone.

Your bravery lives in your breath. Take a deep breath. In every breath, you take into your body as many molecules as there are stars in the known universe, and those 100 million molecules have passed through the lungs of every person who has ever lived. All of us are made of the same elements, cooked in the fiery hearts of ancient stars.

“Accepting our kinship with everyone on earth is not just solid science,” says the astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson, “… it’s also a soaring spiritual experience.” May your spirit soar with wonder as you sense your Oneness with all things.

Your bravery lives in the soul of your sister next to you. Take her hand for a moment. May you reach for her hand to take strength and make meaning, for courage is only possible in community. Your sisters will deliver the toasts at your wedding, hold your newborn child, remind you of your callings, celebrate your swearing in, and kiss the coffin at your funeral. Close your eyes and think of their names. Now open your eyes and don’t let them go.

Finally, your bravery lives in your heart. Place your hands on your chest. Your heart is a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it becomes. May your heart give you the courage to grieve today as an ending, even as you celebrate a new beginning.

My sister Brynn Saito is now a celebrated poet. She says hi. Lately she’s been writing about women warriors, which seems just right. So I would like to close with my favorite lines from “Woman Warrior On How to Be Free:”

“Go to the ends of the earth / girl / go like a leopard
chasing her longing / go like the grasses grown
and cut and blowing over the valley by autumn
fire-winds / Go away from the valley / girl / go
to the city / go like a fighter / with gold ore
precision / with penny-like pain / with plenty
of power…[and with] women like me / wishing you well / whistling
wisdom into your spine… learn to outlast the flame”

Class of 2015: Let your life flare up! Let your life sing!

Your love will outlast the highest flames. Your love will light a new way for all of us.

Thank you and congratulations!

— This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Graphic Artist Dies and Hawai’i Mourns

The familiar Googie-styled “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas Nevada” sign is iconic and instantly recognizable. The designer Betty Willis has recently passed away.

The Welcome sign was installed in 1959 where it has been welcoming Hawaii people ever since.

Goodbye to Aloha?

In support of the local Hawai’i film industry, everyone should see Aloha, over the opening weekend, when the box office numbers count the most.

Aloha may be a shooting star or a stinker. Cameron Crowe is a director with moments of great brilliance. The film has all of the right elements. Hawaii setting. Best cast ever. Bill Murray, Bradley Cooper, Emma Stone, Rachel McAdams, Alec Baldwin, John Krasinski, Danny McBride, and Jay Baruchel.

In the Sony email scandal, the one with or without North Korea, that exposed studio executive emails, among other terrors, Aloha was a topic of commentary. Upper management was fretting, as expected. Audience feedback scores were low. Some plot points made no sense. Producer MIA.

One item of concern revealed a Golden Rule in Storytelling. Gawker points to an email that reads, “”People don’t like people in movies who flirt with married people or married people who flirt.” That is a truism. It creates an unfavorable cinematic experience. Who can you root for, without getting into trouble with your date?

I am curious to see how military life in Hawai’i is portrayed. They talk and move like everyone else, but those in the military are a distinctive class across the islands.

See ya at the movies!

Gallery HNL is Building a Collector Base

As a theory, Gallery HNL is interesting. As a practicality, it seems to be working. The gallery has a stable of artists comprised of UH alumni and faculty. Gallery HNL is creating events and selling work. Two of the first collectors are Kristen and Michael Chan, both with a long history in local fine art involvement and support.

Kristen Chan and her husband doctor Michael have just purchased “Three Piece Fountain” by Theresa Heinrich.

The Chans have a similar taste in art, which makes life an easy glide. Kristen Chan was given a pre-show viewing and fell in love with the Heinrich piece, a freestanding sculpture. She took a slew of pics with her camera. Armed with visuals and a web link, Kristen presented the piece to her husband. Unanimous, the Chans now collect the work of Theresa Heinrich, a recent grad of the BFA program at UH.

Kristen Chan has always had her head filled with numbers. In finance, she studied numbers with an interest. All of that changed on a trip to Venice.

The Chans were able to view the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice on a quiet day. Kirsten was touched. She began to think in a new way. She was very impressed by “the spirit behind (Peggy Guggenheim). She was so inventive.” Kristen began to contemplate more about art issues and less about numbers.

Back home in Hawai’i, Chan got involved with the old modern art museum and supported its new incarnation. She has been highly involved with the Hawaii International Film Festival.

Now, she is a supporter of the new Gallery HNL. Read more about it here on Hula Moon.

A Cocktail Creation: The Hula Moon Pint + Jigger

This flip offers a fun twist on an after dinner cocktail, destined to be savored underneath a full moon.

.25 oz Fernet Branca
1/2 oz Taylors Velvet Falernum
1/2 oz Tempus Fugit Creme de Cacao
1/2 oz Raspberry Syrup
1/2 oz Fresh Pressed Pineapple Juice
1oz Cream
1 full raw Egg

Pour all ingredients into a shaker tin. Shake without ice.
Add ice. Shake until cold.
Double strain into a chilled coupe glass.
Sprinkle with cocoa powder.

Just back from the World Class Bartending competition in San Francisco, Dave Newman of Honolulu’s Pint + Jigger explains that their Hula Moon drink is a flip, a style that has been around for centuries. “The secret to making a good flip is in the shaking.” The first shake is made without ice. “This will properly emulsify the egg and get your ingredients well incorporated together.”

Newman adds, “The smooth texture and creamy nature of the drink let the tropical notes shine through, while not being too cloying or sweet. It would be a great way to end the evening under the stars while taking in the beauty of Hawai’i.”

Brother, I could not agree with you more.

Aloha says Hello and Goodbye.

Gordy Grundy is an O’ahu based artist, arts writer and libertine. His visual and literary works can be found at www.GordyGrundy.com.

HULA MOON is a celebration of Hawai’i. Send Hula Moon tips and scoops to e-mail address hulamoon [at] GordyGrundy [dot] com. Anonymity always guaranteed.

— This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Several months ago, PETA’s Los Angeles office, the Bob Barker Building, hosted an unusual adoption event. There were no dogs or cats or even rabbits. This event was for the birds — literally. Nearly 100 hens — who had been rescued by Animal Place from an egg farm that was “depopulating” birds who were no longer productive — were in need of homes. And they got them during the largest chicken “adopt-a-thon” ever held.

These hens were extremely lucky. Most “depopulated” birds are sent to slaughter, their bodies chopped up and turned into “nuggets” or “fingers.” Other unwanted birds (including male chicks, who are useless to egg farmers for obvious reasons) don’t even make it to the slaughterhouse: They are simply tossed into huge “macerators” and ground up — alive.

If death by wood chipper isn’t enough to put you off eggs, here are some other compelling reasons to keep them off your plate during National Egg Month and every other month of the year:

1. There’s a 90 Percent Chance Your Eggs Came From a Factory Farm

More than 90 percent of eggs come from hens who are confined to battery cages — row upon row of cages stacked many tiers high in huge windowless sheds. Each cage, which is about the size of a filing cabinet drawer, holds from five to 11 hens. The birds are virtually immobilized — with not even enough room to spread a single wing. Waste from birds on upper tiers falls on those below, and the ammonia fumes can be so strong that they ulcerate birds’ eyes. Hungry yet?

Credit: PETA

2. Free-Range, Schmee-Range

So-called “free-range” hens don’t have it much better. Most are confined to the same crowded, filthy, sheds that factory-farmed “broiler” chickens are raised in. The USDA requires that “free-range” animals have access to outdoor areas, but the birds don’t actually have to spend any time outside to be called “free-range,” and the sheds are so crowded that many birds can’t even get to the doors. And yes, even so-called “humane” and “free-range” farms “depopulate” (i.e., slaughter) unproductive hens.

3. Remember Bird Flu?

It’s baaaaack. After a recent outbreak of H5N2 at dozens of Iowa egg farms, an estimated 25 million hens were (or soon will be) killed — nearly half the egg-laying hens in the state. There have also been recent bird flu outbreaks on chicken and turkey farms in Arkansas, Idaho, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Montana, North Dakota, Oregon, South Dakota, Washington and Wisconsin. Bird flu easily mutates into strains that can infect people: More than 600 people worldwide have died of bird flu since 2003, and hundreds more have been infected.

4. And Don’t Forget Salmonella

Salmonella is responsible for more foodborne outbreaks than any other bacteria, and eggs are the main source of salmonella infections. (Bacteria spread like wildfire on crowded factory farms, and they don’t come any more crowded than on battery egg farms.) Last month, two egg industry executives were sentenced to three months in jail and fined $100,000 apiece for their role in the largest egg recall in history, a 2010 salmonella outbreak that involved half a billion eggs and sickened up to 56,000 people.

Credit: PETA
5. Eggs Are Still Bad for Your Heart

A recent study found that eating eggs is almost as hard on your arteries as smoking: People who ate three or more egg yolks a week had significantly more arterial plaque than those who ate fewer to no eggs at all. Exactly what it is about eggs that’s so bad for you is still a matter of debate. In addition to cholesterol, eggs contain a significant amount of fat, much of which is saturated or “bad” fat. They also contain lecithin, which is converted during digestion into TMAO, a chemical that has been linked to an increased risk of heart attacks and strokes. Researchers theorize that TMAO makes it easier for cholesterol to stick to artery walls, which prevents the body from excreting excess cholesterol.

Credit: Melissa Doroquez | cc by 2.0

6. Eggs Are Actually Chicken Periods

Yeah, it’s pretty gross when you think about it.

Credit: Pan: © iStockphoto.com/Uyen Le • Panties: © iStockphoto.com/Urs Siedentop

7. Chickens Are as Smart as Monkeys

According to animal behaviorist Dr. Chris Evans of Australia’s Macquarie University, chickens are good at solving problems. They can recognize each others’ facial figures, count from left to right like humans, have at least 24 distinct cries, and are able to understand that recently hidden objects still exist, a concept that small children are unable to comprehend. “As a trick at conferences, I sometimes list these attributes, without mentioning chickens, and people think I’m talking about monkeys,” says Dr. Evans.

Credit: Ano Lobb | cc by 2.0

You can help chickens everywhere by refusing to buy any eggs and instead using egg-free options for your baking and cooking.

— This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

When you’re not at Cannes, hop on a boat and sail to Corsica. For blue waters, cute villages, crazy drivers, and delicious cookies. See what happens when Italy and France have a love child. All photos by Veronique Lievre.

By Veronique Lievre for Fathom | The Mediterranean island of Corsica has always been a special destination for me. Rich in history, culture, and natural beauty, it offers an amazing mix of activities for the off-the-beaten-path vacationer. It is nicknamed the isle of beauty for so many reasons: the crystal-clear sea, picturesque mountain villages, delicious local cuisine, and historic sites. I’ve been visiting every year since I was child, and I’m still discovering new scenery and things to do. And I am constantly amazed by its beauty.

Corsica is unique for its many different topographies, ranging from beaches to 120 snow-capped mountain peaks. The snow irrigates the many native plants that blanket the island and creates high-altitude lakes and pastures. The native brush is called “maquis,” and you’ll see and hear a lot about its smell and the beauty while you’re here. The diverse geography means visitors can partake in a wide array of outdoor activities — skiing, swimming, sailing, fishing, and hiking — throughout the year. That the island is such a manageable size (it’s only 114 miles long) means travelers can try a little bit of everything in very little time.

The Balagne region in the northwest is known as the garden of Corsica, an island within an island, for its agricultural heritage. Anchored by the coastal town of Calvi (supposedly the birthplace of Christopher Coumbus), it’s a great starting point for the many things to eat, do, and see on this mighty island.

The charming village of Lumio in Balagne.

IF YOU ONLY DO ONE THING

Take the Artisans’ Route from Lumio to Belgodere, a scenic drive through many historic villages with spectacular sea views. Stop along the way in Aregno, San Antonino, Pigna, and Belgodere. I almost don’t need to tell you to notice the beautiful blues of the Mediterranean in the distance and to smell the maquis, because how could you not? The mountains are dotted with historic villages, which all have their own gastronomic specialties: olive oils, cookies, charcuterie, and cheese. You can stop into many studios to to see artisans at work crafting ceramics, glassware, baskets, paintings, and knives.

Ile Rousse.

WHAT TO DO

Make Your Village Rounds
Visit any one of the many terraced mountain villages and buy locally made olive oil, almond cookies, and essential oils. As you explore the winding streets and small shops, you’ll quickly figure out what each village does best. If you look closely at the historic churches, you’ll get a good sense of how architecture has changed over the centuries.

Take a Train
Micheline La Corse is a toy-like train that’s been running since the 19th century from Calvi to Ile Rouse. It stops along the way at the beach of Bodry, where the water is like a dream.

Explore Calvi
The Citadel in Calvi is a 13th-century fortress that’s well worth the uphill hike. Walk around the ramparts to take in incredible views of the sea and the mountains. In the winter, the mountains are blanketed in snow, and it’s quite a site. There’s a secret passageway that leads down to the harbor. Of course you’re going to take it down.

Ready to swim? Mara Beach, just outside of Calvi, is my favorite place to lounge by the ocean. There’s also a great coastal trail nearby.

Caffeine Fix
Le Bon Café near the entrance of Ile Rouse is artisanal coffee making at its finest, from roasting to grinding to drinking. On display is a trove of cool coffee memorabilia like old-fashioned coffee grinders and bags for carting beans. Buy something to take home; the packaging is great.

Imbibe
Clos Culombu is a winery near the village of Lumio that just opened a brand new designer tasting room.

Nature, Nature, and More Nature
Scandola Nature Reserve is a UNESCO-certified national park on the western part of the island. Make your way to Girolata, a beautiful area with a Genoese fort and many great hiking trails. There are no roads leading there. You have to take the boat from Calvi, which only adds to the experience.

Set aside a day to spend in the forest of Bonifatu, 30 minutes from Calvi. Go swimming in the many natural pools by the river and wander the many hiking trails. A perfect day.

Terrace Apartment Interior.

WHERE TO STAY

Since starting Boutique-Homes.com, I’ve been on the lookout for chic home and villa rentals all over the world. Here’s a small sampling of how to stay the Corsican way.

For modern living, stay at Pietra Nova, situated on a natural rock formation and surrounded by olive and oak trees with great views of the bay of Calvi and the village of Lumio in the distance. The large outdoor dining/lounging area is a terrific spot for dinner (prepared from freshly purchased ingredients, of course). From 1500€ per week.

Experience typical Coriscan village life at La Torra, a two-bedroom rental in the mountain village Ville de Paraiso, 45 minutes from Calvi airport by car and within 10 kilometers of the beach. Guests can hear the bells of the village church ringing every morning like they’ve done for hundreds of years. 650€ per week.

If you’re looking for a more rural atmosphere, Bergerie Above Calvi offers a secluded experience away from the coastal crowds. The property is almost like a mini-hotel with all the privacy of a rental set in an olive grove. The rooms are four bergeries — shepherds’ cottages renovated into chic lodging for 2-4 people, each with private terraces and fully equipped kitchens. Daily breakfast is included. The Bergerie is nestled into a hillside, so guests can take in views of the bay and the village from the private pool. From 500€ per night.

La Caseta is a traditional two-story home in Balagne, with orange and lemon trees growing all around the expansive patio. When I stayed here, I made a lot of freshly squeezed juices.

A beautiful, terraced two-bedroom apartment near Ile Rousse overlooks the sea and the mountains and is decorated with contemporary art. It’s very convenient for day trips into the mountain villages.

Groups traveling to Corsica should consider a 15th-century monastery near the village of Costa on the Artisan Road. The 17 rooms are simply furnished with only a desk and bed, which is ideal for writers who want a quiet place to work on a novel. The entire atmosphere is both spiritual and tranquil. From 700€ per night for the entire monastery. Imagine the group party!

A 15th-century monastery near Costa.

PLAN YOUR TRIP

Fly: Ajaccio Napoleon Bonaparte Airport (AJA) in Ajaccio is the largest international airport in Corsica. It’s serviced by airines like AIrFrance, Air Corsica, Easyjet, and Swissair, among others. The island is small, so it won’t take you very long to get wherever you’re going.

GETTING AROUND

Renting a car is the best way to see the island. But be careful — the roads are very windy and don’t always have guard rails. And the Corsicans are known to drive very fast.

WHEN TO GO

The best time to visit is May through June when the sea starts warming up and the maquis begins to bloom, before tourist season has officially started, and September, when the tourists have left and the weather is still beautiful.

LOCAL KNOW-HOW

On the beaches in Corsica, feel free to go topless or even nude. But make sure to put your shirt back on before going into the villages.

When driving, always pull over to let the Corsicans zoom past you if you want to do leisurely sightseeing.

If you can’t finish a meal, never ask for a doggy bag. The locals will be insulted.

Tipping isn’t customary, but it’s always better to make it so the restaurant doesn’t have to bring you change. The tip doesn’t have to be a lot: If the total comes to 46€, leave a 50€ bill.

Casanera in Calvi.

WHAT TO BRING BACK

A bottle of Immortelle essential oil purchased on the Artisan’s Route in Lumio.

Artisan coffee from Le Bon Café in Ile Rousse.

Homemade cookies from Salvatori in Ile Rousse. The same family has been making them for generations.

A can of fish soup available in every grocery store. The packaging is blue with a picture of a fish. If you’re having trouble finding it, just ask for the blue packaging. The locals will know!

Beauty products from Casanera, a new store in Calvi that makes their products from all local ingredients.

I always bring back a few immortelle flowers that I collect in the maquis. Their smell is very strong and lasts forever. I keep the flowers in a little tin box. Every time I open it, the fragrance transports me to Corsica.

Read more on Fathom: Pantelleria: The Anti-Capri, A Few Days in Capri, Most Romantic Hotels in Europe: France

Veronique is the hospitality entrepreneur behind Verana Hotel and Spa in Mexico, Boutique-Homes.com, and Been-Seen.com travel blog. She travels for the design.

— This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.