04.18.2025 In Loving Memory My friend and coworker at Lion’s Roar, Cindy Littlefair, embodied the essence of sangha. She was a true dharma companion not only for me, but for all of us who worked alongside her. Cindy died on Tuesday, April 15.  Cindy’s primary role with us was as Human Resources Manager and manager of our annual online auction. We were close friends and worked together almost every day. Cindy brought vigor and commitment to process, a love of transactional work, a thrifty eye to stretching our nonprofit dollars, and a steady dedication to fairness. Like anyone, she had parts of her job she loved — hiring people, being a listening ear, solving a furniture problem with a thrift find, and curating the wealth of items in our annual auction and store from all corners of the world. Of course, there were hard parts, too. Human Resources work comes with its share of challenges — the kinds of conflicts and problems that aren’t enjoyable to navigate — but Cindy approached them with skill, honesty, and care. But the gift she gave me, and the way she became a kind of teacher, was through her outrageous, direct energy. Cindy loved clear solutions, and her beautiful, sharp mind brought a distinct wake-up quality to our workplace and to my life — something I’ll miss deeply. Often, she’d arrive at my office door, tapping her fingers: “Whatcha got? Whatcha got?” she’d ask. We’d settle into a chat, and she’d help me navigate a roadblock in a project or a knotty workplace issue, always with a creative solution. I will miss those interruptions. She had a unique way of holding space. When I was fixated on a quick fix, she’d pause, look at me, and say, “Hmmmm, let’s wait a bit…” At other times, she’d stop a meeting in its tracks: “Wait!” she’d say, “I think we’re overcomplicating things!” She was often right. More than anything, Cindy showed us how to bring outrageousness and bravery to hard conversations. Once, she told me how hurt she felt being left out of a difficult discussion I’d had with another coworker, in which she should’ve been included. Later, at a team meeting, she read a teaching on bravery and fearlessness and followed up by openly sharing her disappointment and sadness. It stopped me in my tracks. I saw then how much I had to learn from her — as we all did — as she embodied dharma in action. During one of our final visits, I told her how she’d taught me about courage and fearlessness in the workplace, and that I’d try to carry forward her beautiful, disruptive, truth-seeking energy. She laughed, threw her head back, and said, “Excellent!” Wonderfully, Cindy was also a gifted writer. Below, we’re sharing three pieces in her honor: a reflection she wrote as she faced death and how Buddhist teachings supported her; her take on the dharma of fiction in War and Peace (she was an avid reader, known to make a dharmic connection where others might not see one); and a remembrance to help you get to know more about the colleague and friend we’re grieving and celebrating. Cindy had a huge heart. Her imprint on Lion’s Roar will be with us for a long time. May our continued work serve as a tribute to her heart, her mind, and her path. —Beth Wallace, Associate Publisher, Finance & Operations     In loving memory of Cindy Littlefair (1959–2025) I Won’t Fight Death to the Death Most of us spend our lives doing everything we can to deny death, to turn a blind eye to it. Cindy Littlefair on acceptance. Questionable though it may seem, I have the advantage of thinking I know what comes next, the part where I die. It even comes with a set of directions: From the lower parking lot at Point Pleasant Park in Halifax, head due south along Sailor’s Memorial Way to the place where the Northwest Arm, a narrow ocean inlet, meets the rest of the harbor. Look left, out to sea. It’s really just open water, but to me it’s become a deep vertical expanse of welcoming, the air shimmering with its presence. It feels to me like emptiness itself, and it grounds me. Welcomes me. It reorients me whether I see it in person or recall it in memory from the dry, upholstered comfort of my home, and it’s where I think I’ll be in spirit, first stop, when I die. ADVERTISEMENT The Dharma of Fiction Novels, fables, and plays — they’re stories that are made up, yet they often express deep truths. Five writers and thinkers explore the spiritual teachings they’ve found in fiction. Cindy Littlefair: There’s a moment in reading War and Peace when I say, “Tolstoy! You Buddhist you!” At this point, I’m almost a thousand pages in. Tolstoy’s love of humanity is clear. He understands their frailties and failings, their quotidian concerns. He scorns the selfish, upholds the moral. I am hypnotized by his characters, the movers and shakers of early nineteenth-century Russian society. Now Napoleon is about to invade Moscow. Enter the dharma. “The first thing history does,” says Tolstoy through the character of General Kutuzov, commander-in-chief of the Russian forces, “is to take an arbitrary series of continuous events and examine it separately, whereas in fact no event can ever have a beginning, because an individual event flows without any break in continuity from another.” Remembering Our Friend and Colleague, Cindy Littlefair   We remember Cindy Littlefair, our dear friend and longtime human resources manager, whose invaluable contribution and dedication left a lasting impact on everyone at Lion’s Roar. Cindy was known to many members of the Lion’s Roar community and our partners as the creator of our annual fund-raising auction. She was honest, strong, and caring in her role as the long-time human resources manager for more than 18 years at Lion’s Roar, and helped us live the principles of the dharma in our work. Cindy was a dear and invaluable part of our lives who did so much to make Lion’s Roar special as a place to work. As a devoted practitioner of Buddhism, she contributed to our mission to offer the teachings of wisdom and compassion to the modern world, and she strived to live her own life according to those principles. We’ll deeply miss her presence in our lives and work.