the path and the way
The path and the way
The ways the deer take are so clear and quiet feeling.
That’s the way I go.
I aimed for the river,
Found the way,
Hearing the water.
Now to back track and make a path...
Review of Zichronot/Memories, A Journal by Dr. Jerome Lowenstein
We admire some authors not only because of their writings but also because of the human being these writings reveal. It quickly becomes clear from reading the essays in Zichronot/Memories what an intelligent, humane,...
Series on the Bahá’í Faith Part 1: Bahá’ís in Iran
Twice a month, Ahva Afnani and I will be posting articles about the Bahá’í Faith here. We are members of the Bahá’í Community of the United States that has in total over 200,000 members....
Respect is Form of Love
My 8 year said today:"I cried because I did not want to share (the money she had available at that time). But after I understood why it was good to share, I cried because...
A Different Perspective
I recently attended a work conference for web professionals and had the pleasure of meeting a blind man. He was there to educate people about web tools to enhance the user experience for the...
Cultural Baggage in Zen Practice
What is my self? It is my body and thoughts, my logic and my creativity. It consists of all the events of my life and my memories of them. It includes every scar, mistake,...
TRUE INTIMACY
True intimacy is to welcome every sensation just as it arises.
To be at home in the present instant without labels of better or worse, without preferring what should be to what is: such immediate...
I do my best to believe.
I believe in UnrestrainedCompassion. UnreasonableLove. UnfathomableJoy. I believe in giving your whole heart to whatever you do. To feeling every moment, every word you say, every look you give. I believe in living a...
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...
Violence is here, and it is us
More than 20 years ago, when I lived in Budapest, a ringing telephone woke me one morning and I stumbled across the room to answer. Disoriented and groggy, I lifted the receiver and through...