Kendall’s Quest:

Tai just sent me this poem by Ryokan, a Japanese Zen poet of the eighteenth century (it, and more like it here). It’s not yet where I am, but it’s where I’m aiming to be, and it helps me understand that odd detachment or distance I experienced at the workshop: [read on]

Now I’m sitting in class, slightly dazed and disoriented from the shock of travel between identities and localities, while one fifth of my students pores over their final exam which I will soon need to grade. My route home from Hartford/Springfield to Baltimore, to Birmingham, and finally to Houston took six hours, time enough for me to re-read Nawal El-Saadawi’s powerful but deeply depressing novel, Woman at Point Zero, which added to my sense of disorientation (why did I take that novel?). The long series of flights gave me time to write some notes to myself, trying to integrate (1) the workshop and my odd sense of mingled hero-worship of the stars and detachment from the whole event; (2) the feelings that arose from being at Kripalu again, the overwhelming power of familiar smells of the place and the woods surrounding it; (3) deep talks with old friends who know me well and whose lives continue to unfold in surprising and adventurous ways; and (4) the relevance of all of that to my on-going quest. [read on]

I’m in the airport, standing up at a free computer with a red-dot mouse that doesn’t work very well, so here goes: I’m on my way back to Houston from Massachusetts, where I’ve been hanging out with the stars. [Links added May 10th] Here’s the quick and (like it or not) clean: [read on]

I’m packing tonight because I’ll be at the prison till late tomorrow, and Friday I’ll be leaving after class for…Massachusetts. Old friends, cool weather, and a workshop on Women and Film at Kripalu. [read on]