BootsnAll Travel Network



Mary Rose Meets Thay

April 16th, 2007

Continuing my reading of Mary Rose O’Reilley’s The Barn at the End of the World, it seems to me that the radiant core of the book is this meeting she had with “Thay,” Thich Nhat Hanh, the head teacher at Plum Village, and the author of several books that have shaped me, including Being Peace . Read the rest of this entry »

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Buddhist communities

April 15th, 2007

I always have a stack of books by my bed, and I am often reading several at once, though sometimes a book sits in the stack so long that it gets moved aside, ends up on a shelf, and languishes there for a year or two. So it was with Mary Rose O’Reilley’s The Barn at the End of the World. Somehow I gravitated to it once again last night and remembered why I’d been drawn to it in the first place. The author has a sharp sense of humor, the courage to create a life for herself unlike anyone else’s, and she threw herself over a cliff that has always fascinated me: she moved to Thay Nhat Hanh’s Plum Village, in France, and wrote (uproariously) about how that went for her. Read the rest of this entry »

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Dancing with Carolyn Heilbrun

April 13th, 2007

Carolyn Heilbrun’s last book, The Last Gift of Time: Life Beyond Sixty, is a pertinent read for anyone on the cusp of life-change. It’s a collection of essays, some more engaging than others. I am very different from Heilbrun, and her experience doesn’t reflect mine. But I don’t find her saying what I’ve heard before. She’s opinionated, bossy, bravely self-revealing, tough, and original. She makes me laugh and wonder, and see myself more clearly, so I’m grateful to the woman in Costa Rica who suggested this book to the friend who told me about it; and I’m grateful to Carolyn Heilbrun for writing it. Read the rest of this entry »

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Basho’s Back

April 10th, 2007

Last night, this email exchange with Ansie:

Me: Maybe I should go back and get him. But then what?

Ansie: Then you love him and feel his soft body against yours and listen to the sweet little noises he makes when he is asleep. And you decide what next when there is truly no time left for love. If it was me (and I know it isn’t), I would hold on to every little bit of love for as long as possible because in the end that is the only thing that really matters. Read the rest of this entry »

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Doubting Everything

April 9th, 2007

The woman who has taken Basho says he’s not eating, he growls at her cat, he’s terrified of her dog. If she sits on the couch in the room where he hides, he will come out and sit near her; but he doesn’t trust her, runs if she moves toward him. Perhaps he just needs time to adjust, but I feel horrible for thrusting this difficulty on a being who only ever gave me joy and who was perfectly happy with life as it was. And I miss him. There are horrors taking place in the world, and by comparison with the results of global warming and what’s going on in Darfur, Myanmar, or Iraq, this is trivial. But every loss calls up every other loss. I live again the losses of my children, friends, lovers, animals, oceans, and places I have left behind in the quest. I take this moment, and Dave’s wise comment, to call into question everything in my life. Read the rest of this entry »

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Farewell to Basho

April 7th, 2007

This is a hard day. I took Basho to his new home. It’s a necessary step toward my new way of life, but Basho has been my familiar for the past five years: we’ve meditated together every morning and slept together every night; we’ve watched the dawn rise on whatever balcony I had at the time. We breathe in the same rhythm and are perfectly at peace with each other. We have a completely harmonious connection. When I left home in the morning, he would walk me to the door and mew goodbye. When I came home at the end of the day, he would run to the door when he heard the key in the lock and be there when the door opened. He was eight months old when he came to me, and we bonded as I hadn’t bonded with another animal since I was a child. For five years he has sat in my lap as I graded papers, read, worked at the computer, watched movies, or talked on the phone. The contours of his body are more familiar to me than my own. I’ve slept beside him longer than I’ve ever slept with anyone else, lived with him longer than I’ve lived with anyone but my children. He has a wonderful new home with another cat, a dog, and a woman who loves to read with a cat in her lap. It’ll be a great set-up when he gets used to it, but it’s unfamiliar now. I sat with him for an hour in his new home, and although the trip had unnerved him, he settled into my lap in a house full of new smells and gradually became more at ease and finally started to purr. But when I stood up to leave, he followed me. His brow wrinkled, and his eyes looked confused and fearful. I had to push him away from the door to get out. His new home is an hour and a half north of where I live, and as I drove home in the rain, sobbing, I listened to Andrea Chenier at the Met, and cried some more. I have four sets of papers to grade, and I can’t even bear to look at them. My body feels like wood. I think I’ll go to bed and pull the covers over my head. I feel the absence of his warm soft body like a great howl of emptiness.

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Three Movies

March 31st, 2007

Finally the big mainstream movies of 2006 are coming out on DVD, so I get to see them at last. I rationalize my movie mania by telling myself it’s important to know the popular culture of my time, and I need to understand the metaphors my students relate to, but the truth is I’m just a shameless movie-hound. I’m most likely to watch movies (and blog about them) when I’m avoiding something I should be doing, and this weekend I have two sets of papers to grade, so here I am. And lo, I have enjoyed two movies I expected to hate, The Departed and The Pursuit of Happyness; and although I was prepared for the economic and political vision of Blood Diamond , and I knew it would be drenched in blood and horror because the diamond trade is, I didn’t expect it to have an intelligently written sub-plot that explores questions I am still asking myself, especially about Africa. Read the rest of this entry »

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Two Poems and a Protest Singer

March 31st, 2007

Via Gallo, here are two poems by the Mexican poet Homero Aridjis (his father was Greek, which explains his surname, but his mother was Mexican, and he was born in Michoacan and, according to the web page created at Sweet Briar College, where he must have been a guest, still lives in Mexico): Read the rest of this entry »

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Thinking Blogs!

March 29th, 2007

Thanks to Nacho for tagging me as one of his five nominees for Thinking Blogs! He got tagged by T, and he and T are authors of two of the blogs that make me think! (Irony noted: one of the goals of Buddhist practice is to go beyond “thinking mind.” But art takes me beyond, and artful living and artful writing about life matter to me.) Read the rest of this entry »

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Silence

March 28th, 2007

This came in a comment to an earlier post, but it’s so beautiful I decided to make it a post of its own, with gratitude to Christopher for sending it:

Silence. Advice / thoughts from Juan Ramon Jimenez (1881-1958): Read the rest of this entry »

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