Compassion

Will You Be My Mother?

I had been in Rwanda for a month, tracing the footsteps of the genocide in the ten thousand hills. This was my last morning, alone in the genocide museum near Kigali. The perfect place...

Dementia, Word, This

2013 Honorable Mention (Essay) Grandpa told us flatly that he grew up at the base of Mount Everest. We all laughed, horrified. “Mount Rainier,” my uncle corrected him, after long silence. At my cousin’s wedding...

Recognize Suffering in Others by Rick Hanson Ph.D.

RECOGNIZE SUFFERING IN OTHERS Where Does It Hurt? The Practice: Recognize suffering in others. Why? We’re usually aware of our own suffering, which – broadly defined – includes the whole range of physical and mental discomfort, from mild headache...

A pale reproduction

In printing, an image is broken down into four basic colors — cyan (blue), magenta (pink), yellow and black. If you look through a magnifier, you will see that any printed photo is made up...

thoughts on love and the deed of loving

at the beginning it was the encounter, and all real life is meeting. we are not all one. i and you are not one, and that's how we can love each other. if i love...

A Season to Remember

for Miriam Some wounds, old wounds, with their ragged edges, with their hardened skin, never fully heal.   We sat in the dimmed living room, lights twinkling on the tree, listening to Christmas music, and she said, “My mother loved this time of year.”   I caught...

Once Upon a Swim…

I was in the middle of a long training swim one afternoon, preparing for a triathlon, feeling pressured to complete the session, already thinking ahead to the impossible list of things I had to...

addendum: on i-it and the god we repress

god is the between of an i and a thou, and it is precisely this existential dialogue with all that exists, our "essential deed" as buber called it, that which we repress within us...

Just One Thing by Rick Hanson Ph.D.

  What do others want? The Practice: See good intentions. Why? Hustling through an airport, I stopped to buy some water. At the shop’s refrigerator, a man was bent over, loading bottles into it. I reached past him and...

New Poems by MargBouvard

HYMNS I think of Falah’s sister in Iraq who lost her husband, her four children, affectionate daughters, proud sons. I think of her empty hands, her empty house that is no longer a home, and I pray. I think there will...