I told my husband about a dangerous encounter I had been trapped in earlier in the day. It was between a Swiss man and a furious driver. My husband reminded me of the time I stepped between two volatile men, and he advised, "Don't get in a pen with a mad bull. Get as far away from danger as possible. You don't want to be another casualty like we hear about in the news."

The Color Red

"Suzy, why did you take off the bandage again?" my frustrated mother inquired.

"Because the color is so pretty!" I smiled as I watched red rhythmically spurt out of a gash the full length of my right big toe. Even at the age of three, I had a different perspective on the color red. Never mind that Tommy had pushed me to crawl through a broken basement window of the spooky old house next door. Tommy was my frequent shadow and companion throughout childhood. His purpose in life was to torment and scare the living daylights out of me. My purpose was to appreciate and enjoy the beauty in everything. Color often served as a doorway. 

My Tulane University art teacher pointed to green on a color wheel and then to red and said:

   
If you want to shade a red apple, use its complementary color, green. The complement of any color is on the opposite side of the color wheel—red and green, blue and orange, yellow and purple. To shade a red rose, mix a touch of green into the red paint. You will get a rich, wine-like red. To shade a lemon, mix a touch of purple into your yellow paint. You will get a warm olive-like shadow that still looks yellow. When you mix a color with its complement, something magical happens. The result becomes darker, richer and more natural than using black for shading. If you mix any color with black, it deadens the color and makes it look flat, artificial and muddy. For dark areas and shading, use a color mixed with its complement to keep the color alive. A sense of optical vibration occurs, the eyes see depth, and your shadows glow and look real.

It fascinates me that the complement of any color is its complete opposite. Between opposites, we have the full range of possibilities and the potential for vibrant unity. In art, music or even relationships, enjoying contrasts and embracing differences can lead to a higher level of dynamic harmony that includes the whole of life, dark and light, negative and positive, yin and yang. 

A Game of Chicken in Botanical Gardens, Valentine's Day 2026

Green lollipop palm trees 
mirrored in the ponds, 
each tree a new friend of old. 

They stand tall and strong, 
yet bend when needed, 
lest they snap when furious winds blow.    

It was a sweet, peaceful day in tropical paradise. After a rare frost in Florida, the weather was a perfect 70°F (21°C) for a stroll over to the nearby botanical gardens with my new friend Lindsay. I was hoping to see minimal foliage damage from those freezing temperatures. 

At 10 a.m., the botanical gardens parking lots were already full for its popular annual art and car show, so people were parking on the grass embankments alongside its main road. A large shiny black sedan zoomed right in front of Lindsay and me, attempting to park where we were walking on the grass embankment. But a middle-aged man stood with his arms stretched out to save the parking space. He was midsized, with pleasant blue eyes and sandy hair.

The driver stuck his head out of the window and yelled, "Move out of the way!" He had a sharp jawline and black hair. The middle-aged man pointed to a car a few yards across the street and said, "I am saving this space for my friend to park here. He is just right over there." 

"Move! Move right now!"

The middle-aged man put his hands on his hips, spread his feet and stood his ground. The driver screamed, "You can't save a place by standing there!! You can't do that!!" The middle-aged man didn't budge.

The driver boiled over and scalded the air, "Move or I'll run you over!!!" Everyone froze. Traffic had stopped because his sedan was blocking the road. This caused a crowd to form around this dangerous scene. The middle-aged man was as immovable as the Matterhorn. He was there first and was determined to save the parking space for his friend a few yards away.

Far from a Fair Match

The driver started backing his sedan toward the middle-aged man. Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. Almost touching the man. Yikes! Was he going to run him over? 

Boom! As soon as the car touched the middle-aged man, he slammed his fist hard on the trunk. His eyes bulged and his mouth opened. The car jerked to a halt. The surrounding crowd breathed a sigh of relief. 

But the danger was not over. The furious driver yelled, "You hit my car! You can't hit my car!!! You can't do that!!" 

The furious driver got something out of his glove compartment and then jumped out of the car. He kept ranting as he marched over to the middle-aged man. The furious driver was the tallest person I had ever seen in my life. He looked unreal. 

The middle-aged man's stunned eyes blinked as he turned his head up to face his adversary, over a head taller and 15 years younger. He was trapped between that towering madness and his black sedan. It was far from a fair match, but how could he back down with everyone watching?

Gorgeous Red

Meanwhile, a gorgeous woman in red hat and dress sat motionless in the black sedan's passenger seat. She looked straight ahead as if to separate herself from the madman. I hoped that she was plotting how to dump him that very day. 

With narrowed dark eyes and gritted teeth, the furious driver stepped close to the middle-aged man. He looked ready to smash him with his fists and then his black sedan. In a few moments, red could be everywhere.

Past and Present 

The present and the past converged in my mind. In 1972, I witnessed a violent confrontation in my normally peaceful hometown of Paducah, Kentucky. After completing a one-month meditation course, I returned home for the summer to work in my father's pediatric office. It was Independence Day, so I decided to spend the day off enjoying the festivities downtown. The main street was crowded with people watching the parade of dancers and marching bands go by. Over the noise, I heard loud voices. Two guys were having a heated argument outside a bar on a side street. The taller guy pumped his fists as he yelled. The shorter one walked closer with his hands clenched. The taller guy reached under his untucked blue denim shirt with his right hand, pulled out a gun, and shot him in the stomach. He fell and lay motionless with red spurting out of his body.

Immediately, I sprinted at full speed to inform the policeman I remembered seeing a few blocks away. "A man was shot, over there!" He sped off in his police car and I ran behind it.

Back at the crime scene: The crowd had not moved an inch. The shooter had not either. He still had the gun in his hand, but at least it was not pointing at anyone. The only thing that had moved was the growing pool of red. 

I could not believe that I had just run several blocks, and the crowd was frozen still. Was my fast reaction time due to recently learning meditation? Did it help that I had learned to be quick on my toes to escape my childhood bullies? Being the smallest kid on the block made me an easy target, and I have a few scars to prove it.

Oddly, even though I had just run at top speed, I felt established in an immovable state of consciousness. I had not moved an inch outside of my Self. I did not feel tainted by the extreme negativity I had witnessed.

After the policeman had the shooter handcuffed and in the police car, I dashed over to the injured man. Having seen my father do this, I knew that firm, direct pressure to a bleeding wound is the fastest way to stop life-threatening blood loss. An ambulance arrived and took the man's inert body away. A few days later, when my father visited his newborn patients at Western Baptist Hospital, he learned that the man was expected to recover from his stomach wound.

The Bully Bull Pen

The image of that shooting incident flashed in my mind. The out-of-control anger I saw then matched what I saw now in the botanical gardens’ parking lot. By chance or destiny, Lindsay and I were wedged between the crowd behind us and the volatile confrontation a few feet in front of us. 

The furious driver's red face contrasted with his long green shirt. He opened and closed his fists a few times and then started to reach under his untucked shirt.

Red warning signs flashed in my brain. Immediately I blurted out, "I have a solution." 

Both guys stared at me. 

"I have a parking space." 

I looked at the middle-aged man and pointed. "We are staying in that building where you can park." I took him by the hand and gently pulled him out of harm's way. I softly said to him, "You can be my friend, say you are with me, and park in our lot."

I was relieved to hear the middle-aged man softly reply, "Okay." 

I turned around to show him where to go, and then a bystander said, "You can park here." She gestured to a nearby space on the grass embankment where a crowd had accumulated because the black car was blocking their path. In his bilious belligerence, the furious driver had blocked the solution to the problem that he had created. There was enough space for both cars to park.

Keep Your Eye on the Bully

I found out later that turning my back on the furious driver was not a good idea. The confrontation was over, the madman was no longer blocking our path forward, so Lindsay and I continued our walk into the botanical gardens. We walked in silence, digesting the contrast from peace to violence to peace again. After a while, she looked at me with bulging eyes and said, "When you turned your back to show that man where to park, the crazy driver backed up his car right behind you, and his car missed hitting you by this much!" She held up two fingers to show the distance.

"Three inches?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes, his car missed you by three inches. I was watching carefully."

At least someone was keeping their eye on the bully. I could have been the only casualty that day!

The Swiss Man

Soon after we entered the botanical gardens, we saw the middle-aged man, who still looked stunned. I patted him on the hand and said to his companion, "Your friend has been traumatized and needs comfort." The middle-aged man smiled, and we chatted for a while as I gently stroked his hand to melt his stress. He said they were from Switzerland. Images of playful but kind Swiss infantrymen and their snowballs filled my head. I said, "We have a lot to learn from the Swiss." (For my encounter with the Swiss Army, check out my previous writing entitled "Melting the Ice.")

As Lindsay and I wandered in the lush botanical gardens, I noticed that there was minimal damage from the recent cold snap. Only the crowns of a few date palms were fringed in brown. I love flowers and plant as many as I can in our gardens at home. Planting flowers is one of the best ways to help the struggling bee population.

The botanical gardens were food to my artist's eyes. Dramatic red, yellow and orange lobster claws snapped with color. Birds of paradise with their bright orange petals resembled birds in flight. Orange, coral and magenta bougainvillea lavished the pathways. Floating on the ponds were star-shaped lilies in pure white, soft pink and red. The ruffled red hibiscus, with their playful yellow tongues, spoke a sweet language that I could almost understand.

An image popped into my awareness of the gorgeous woman in her red dress and hat—the mysterious woman who passively sat in the passenger seat of that dangerous black sedan. Perhaps to distance herself, she did not turn to look at the mad driver when he got out of the car and confronted the middle-aged man with rage. 

I looked around, and there she was, walking by herself behind us on the very same path in the maze of the gardens. Fortunately, the furious driver was nowhere in sight. Had she followed us to connect? I turned to face her, and she gave me a big, warm, thankful smile that said it all. I told her she looked like a beautiful red flower in her red dress and hat. I hugged her with my heart and embraced her with my love. Lindsay and I chatted with her like old friends reuniting.

Green lollipop palm trees 
sway in an affectionate breeze,
each one a familiar soul in disguise. 

Enduring the moody sky,
the scalding sun, 
the storm's rage.

They bend with grace, 
roots deep in the unseen.
No wars can shake their peace.

Closing Reflections

We move through the world never knowing when we will meet a crazy person, a steadfast stranger, a silent witness in a red dress, or a moment that asks us to choose who we want to be. On Valentine’s Day, my friend and I had witnessed a violent confrontation sandwiched between warmth and connection. The full range of emotions displayed itself, but love prevailed. 

It was as if nature trapped me in that dangerous situation and offered a solution, so no one got hurt. Although it may be possible to dissolve minor tension with compassion and tenderness, I do not advise stepping between furious adversaries. I would heed my husband's advice not to get in the bull pen with the bull.

Sometimes we need to bend like palm trees. Sometimes we need to stand firm. Sometimes we forget to look behind us. And sometimes we offer a hand that changes the direction of someone else’s day. As you reflect on my experience, you might notice where these patterns live in your own life—where you act, where you hesitate, where you protect yourself, and where you open your heart. In the end, every encounter becomes a quiet teacher, inviting us to walk a little more awake, a little more aware and a little more lovingly through the world.

Enormous Leaps 

Zeena Shirra shares this good news:

Suzanne, after several months of your Distance Healings, I am happy to report that our son is making enormous leaps in self-understanding and in managing his life. After trying for a couple of years and struggling with life challenges and poor mental health, he and his wife are finally managing to turn their lives around. They are always in our prayers, but having your healings was a great source of help and comfort to us at a time when we could not do any more for them. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts for the work you do.
Zeena Shirra

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Love,
Suzanne