On November 15, I returned to the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women. I arrived having prepared a talk about Zen Buddhist theory and practice for the World Literature class. I departed with so much more.
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As class ended, students thanked me repeatedly for coming to visit them, making them “feel that we are not disasters forgotten by the world.” They promised to make sure that their professor gives me a copy of their magazine of collected writings and will sign their names so I don’t forget them. I’ll never forget them. Good teachers are hard to find.And I’ll be back.
Read MoreWhile it was a rainy day in Cincinnati, it was sunny inside Evanston Academy. I thought about Plato’s image of wisdom growing as we exit a dark cave and gradually climb into the sunlight of mental clarity. What did the child philosophers teach me? I should continue spending time in classrooms with small chairs. I can gorge on simple pleasures, sunup, sundown.
Read More“It’s a shame you’re missing this beautiful Spring,” not a few friends remarked, witnesses to my broken arm suffered at the beginning of April. Actually, I’ve never, ever been as much a part of this time of re-greening—present to each new color and scent, homebound yet traveling in nature’s unfolding. What I remember best, and hopefully always, was gradually becoming a part of the world of birds. I healed to their tune, absorbed in their ways.
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“Give me hope, help me cope / with this heavy load,” George Harrison sang and strummed with three of his British friends in 1973. Wrong weighs like a wet blanket on our souls. Performing his song years later, Harrison’s prayer remains ours: “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth).” Hearts seek light—hands want holding.
twenty-twenty-five / give us love…connect the dots… / our new-fashioned plans