IN SOLIDARITY WITH UKRAINE

In these horrific days under vicious attack, sending love and hope that all the people stay safe and everyone comes home safe again very soon!

DakhaBrakha - an amazing group from Kyiv singing much traditional Ukranian music. Give them some love!

https://www.dakhabrakha.com.ua/en/about/


DUALITY AND SYNTHESIS

Today is Tuesday, February 22, 2022.

Today is an auspicious day according to the numerologists. It is "Twosday," 2/22/22, representing a palindrome - the same forward and backward. With this many twos, it can significantly be seen as a day of duality, of yin yang, of conflict, and compromise, balance, partnership, acceptance of differences, integration and synthesis.

Whether you accept the beliefs of numerology or not (a duality), it can be worthwhile to consider the meaning of these concepts in our own lives...



THICH NHAT HANH, 1/22/22

We mourn with a heavy heart the passing on Jan 22, 2022 of Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist who brought the concept and practice of mindfulness to the West.

We will miss his teachings greatly, but we find joy in his teaching that there is no life or death, only transformation. This gives us hope and peace.

Lily of Sweetest Scent

DECEMBER 12, 1961

Early in the morning the Dutch ocean liner Maasdam landed in Hoboken NJ.

On it was a little family, a mom, a dad, an 8-year-old girl, a 6 year-old by and a tiny 3 year-old toddler. Each child carried a little suitcase with some extra clothes, a handkerchief embroidered by the mom, and a couple of favorite toys. They disembarked among the hustle and bustle of many others, boarded a bus, or maybe it was a ferry, and shortly thereafter arrived in New York City. It was a dull, dreary, dark and misty day with heavy low clouds.

The family, probably with a guide of some kind, went to the German consulate and filled out many forms. The day was spent in the city until it was time to go to the huge bus station and board another bus. The family settled in and made themselves comfortable for the long trip to their new American home, the children quickly falling asleep after their exhausting day.

At 10 PM, the bus stopped in a little Massachusetts town, the family stepped off the bus, glad to stretch their legs. They were met by the dad’s old college friend, the Professor, who piled their suitcases into the trunk of his car and the family into the seats. It seemed like another long ride, but eventually the car stopped in front of their new 200-year-old house with a sagging roof and crooked floors. It was fully furnished with weird-looking furniture (what Americans called “colonial”) and the fridge was fully stocked.

Mom helped the kids wash their faces, brush their teeth, get into their PJ’s and hustle off to bed. It was 10:30 PM — SOOOOOOOO late for the little ones. But they slept well that night and began their new adventurous lives bright and early the next morning December 13, 1961.

Did you guess? That little 8-year-old girl was me! and this is how I remember it.

SEVEN

Many years ago I worked with a client who was returning to the community after serving some time in jail. I have never gotten his story out of my head and I have finally been able to put into words my perspective of his story.

SEVEN

seven years clean

he's made himself a life

successful paramedic

he volunteers to help clear wreckage

from the broken New York towers

he loosens

he digs

he lifts

he carries

those challenging chunks of concrete

those twisted beams of steel

he breathes in fine poisonous powders

he coughs up blood but must continue

he must continue digging

keeps digging

he sees a hand thrust out between the ruins

he scrambles over rubble

he hears her muffled cry

his hand outstretched as far as possible

Reaches to touch one finger ---

He calls for help

They are too late

She slips away

Away...

seven bags of heroin

seven holes in his arm

and seven in his legs

and seven years imprisoned

behind the wall ---

and forever imprisoned

inside his mind ---