Sangha of Auspicious Companions

Bringing Live Music to Deaf Audiences, with the Help of Air Guitar

Luke Holdsworth spent his teenage years assuming live music simply wasn’t for him — not until his mid-20s did he attend his first concert, standing in a crowd he couldn’t fully enter. Now, as one of the UK’s most respected British Sign Language (BSL) interpreters at live events, he stands at the front of sold-out stadium shows, channeling not just lyrics but tempo, vibe, and attitude. For Holdsworth, the work is inseparable from many years with no entry point: “As a deaf person, you always have to explain, or ask for access, or have a defense ready” — and the interpreting stage is his response to that. What he offers deaf audiences isn’t a workaround but a full door into what he calls one of humanity’s most basic joys: losing yourself in a shared moment. His story is a quiet argument that access isn’t charity — it’s the difference between a person standing at the fringes of a shared experience and being enveloped in it completely.

Be The Change

Today, look up a sign language interpreter performing at a live concert on YouTube – there are many remarkable clips – and watch with your full attention, noticing how they translate not just words but rhythm, emotion, and attitude into movement. Notice if watching an interpreter work quietly shifts how you understand music and the boundaries we assume around it.

Why Can’t You?: Three Decades with Those at the Margins

Sister Elizabeth Greim dreamed of becoming a nun early on, but was told she couldn’t because her parents were divorced. In spite of this and other rejections, she wanted to be of service. In 1993, at age 33, with 4 earrings in each ear, a cigarette dangling, a failed marriage, and nowhere else to go, she asked the Daughters of Charity if she could just help out. When Sister Catherine asked if she wanted to be a sister, she explained that she could not. Sister Catherine said, “tell me the story. I’d like to look into it.” Months later, after she removed the earrings, quit smoking, and got a divorce and annulment, she was accepted, and became Sister Elizabeth. “What Sister Catherine really did was see me.” Acceptance and belonging became her intentional service “of being connected to people rejected by their own communities.” “…find where people dwell, sit down beside them, and see them.” Tell them, “Don’t be afraid. It’s okay. You will find the way where there seems not to be one.”

Be The Change

Think of a rejection that informed your life’s journey. Share your story with someone who may not be feeling seen or heard, and listen to their story.

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Love That Has Nowhere Else to Go

The tailor said 150 meters would be enough. One dress each. But the grieving mother looked at him and replied, “I want to give them five dresses each.” There was silence. Then came school bags, lunch boxes, water bottles, chocolates, and name tags — so that each child at the orphanage would receive something chosen personally for them. Ravinder Komaragiri writes of how he and his wife chose to mark the date of their daughter’s first birthday after her passing by “letting love, which has nowhere else to go find its way into another child’s smile.” What moves in this story is not the scale of the giving, but how inconsolable grief can transform into outward compassion for all children. it is through finding a channel to flow love that a grieving couple finds consolation. On June 21st this past summer, sixty orphaned children opened bags packed for them by name. And somewhere, a grieving mother and father hope to see their late daughter in the clouds.

Be The Change

Think of a loss or longing you carry and find one small, specific way to let it move into the world as compassion-in-action for someone else today. It could be a handwritten card to someone who may feel unseen, a gift given with unusual care, or a phone call to let someone know you’re thinking of them.

This Week’s DailyGood Digest

This week, we journeyed through stories that illuminated the interconnectedness of our shared humanity.

In today’s AI world, we held questions around the intentions molding designs that capture our attention. We marveled at changemaker Ruth Brigandi’s unique of loss and found of her memory when she was a teenager and how it influenced her trajectory towards researching consciousness. Journalist Courtney Martin thoughtfully points out the “reductive seduction” of offering overseas aid versus being of service in one’s own locality. A man recalled a 1978 experience of receiving a meal from a kind stranger while stranded in a Cretan village, reminding us of the power of treating strangers with simple humanity. Meanwhile, research on a group of sixth graders’ schooling in a nursing home unveils the power of intergenerational bonds to transform and teach us. Finally, we were touched by the ingenuity of one veterinary assistant in crafting a homemade wheelchair for a tiny kitten, a testament to the creativity born of necessity. Together, these stories wove a fabric of compassionate connection, perhaps prompting us to peek out at the world with renewed eyes of possibility.

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Messages That Wash Away

Every message Ella Joy Martinez writes disappears with the tide — and that’s exactly the point. The 13-year-old from Kaua?i, who has Down Syndrome and is nonverbal, has turned a family shoreline ritual into Sand Scribletz, a small business offering handwritten sand messages photographed and sent to people who can no longer reach the places they love. The customers are often elderly, homebound, or far from an island that once held something dear to them — and “a simple photograph of a personalized message written on a favorite shoreline can reconnect people with meaningful moments and places.” Ella writes each message with a narrow piece of driftwood her mother found walking the beach. No props, no filters — just the real shoreline, the scribbled letters, and the light. The business launched on Earth Day, runs on donations, and gives a portion back to causes Ella already champions: suicide prevention, disability advocacy, anti-bullying. But at its heart, it’s her mother’s quiet, tearful question made visible: can this be something Ella can one day own, and live from, and call hers? The tide keeps answering by coming back in.

Be The Change

Write a short message — perhaps a birthday wish, a memory of a place, a word of encouragement — and send it to someone who is homebound or experiencing some form of isolation. The act of naming what matters, even briefly, is itself a gift.

The Listening That Heals

For many of us, when someone else is speaking, our minds are busy. As we take in what they are saying, we may be quietly, and often unknowingly, holding court inside our own heads — agreeing, disagreeing, comparing, diagnosing, solving. Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, a pioneer in the fields of healing and integrative medicine, had a name for this inner noise, as well as a remedy. Her medical students call it “generous listening”. To listen generously, Remen described, is to drop every agenda; we’re not even listening to understand, but simply to witness what is true for this person, right now. What happens in that space is remarkable. “In a space of safety, people can discover what’s true for them for the first time. It comes from deep inside them, where they’ve held it protected,” she described. “This kind of listening heals people.” Remen, who passed away on August 8, 2026 at the age of 88, reshaped how generations of physicians understand their calling. But this particular invitation belongs to anyone who has ever been in a room with another person and chosen, for a moment, to go quiet inside.

Be The Change

Inspired by Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen’s spirit, in one conversation today, practice dropping your inner agenda entirely: no agreeing, disagreeing, fixing, or comparing. Simply listen for what is true for the person speaking, right now, and let that be enough.

A Supercomputer Pointed at Your Brain

Randima Fernando spent seven years scaling mindfulness into schools and eight more advising Silicon Valley on humane design — which is precisely why it lands differently when he says meditation alone won’t save you. Not because it doesn’t work, but because the thing on the other side of your screen is, in his words, “a supercomputer pointed at your brain,” running constant analysis against your cognitive biases with more data on you than you have on yourself. The attention economy, he argues, doesn’t sell products — it sells the slices of your attention to advertisers, which means a platform is structurally optimized not for what you came to do, but for how long it can hold you before handing you off. What you click, he’s careful to note, is not the same as what you want: everyone looks at a car crash on the highway, but no one actually wants a world full of them. The feeds that manufacture those crashes all day long are extracting something just as finite as oil — focus, coherence, the capacity to sustain thought — and regeneration requires more than a weekly sitting practice can supply. Fernando’s answer runs on two tracks at once: shift the incentive structures that reward extraction at the systems level, and cultivate enough inner clarity to practice something older than any algorithm. “Win it by not being in the fight” — not as passivity, but as a deliberate refusal to let an engineered menu set the direction of your one life. It’s a counsel that arrives not from someone who stepped away from the machine, but from someone who helped build it.

Be The Change

Pick one app or feed you opened today on reflex rather than intention, and delete it from your phone for one week — not as a test of willpower, but as a small experiment in noticing what returns to your attention. For more inspiration, join a live Awakin Call with Randima Fernando this Saturday!