Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

IF THE SUN’S TEARS WOULD SING

Butterfly Boy Bronze Statue unveiled at Jane Bancroft Cook Library (Florida), January 28, 2010

Sculptor, Sidney Fagin.

♥ ♥ ♥

I Never Saw Another Butterfly

by Pavel Freidman

The last, the very last,

So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.

Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing

against a white stone. . . .

Such, such a yellow

Is carried lightly ‘way up high.

It went away I’m sure because it wished to

kiss the world good-bye.

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,

Penned up inside this ghetto.

But I have found what I love here.

The dandelions call to me

And the white chestnut branches in the court.

Only I never saw another butterfly.

That butterfly was the last one.

Butterflies don’t live in here,

in the ghetto.

♥ ♥ ♥

Pavel Friedmann was born in Prague on January 7, 1921. He was deported to Terezin on April 26, 1942 and later to Auschwitz, where he died on September 29, 1944. At least 960,000 Jews were killed in Auschwitz. Other victims included approximately 74,000 Poles, 21,000 Roma (Gypsies), and 15,000 Soviet prisoners of war; and 10,000-15,000 members of other nationalities (Soviet civilians, Czechs, Yugoslavs, French, Germans, and Austrians). Women, men, children.

One day, I was engrossed in a writing project, which will probably take more than a few years to complete.  The story  involves some of the great art pieces that were stolen by the Nazis during World War II and how some of those pieces have now been restored to the families from which they came. As I juggle multiple writing projects with higher priority, I usually am only able to devote several hours a week to this particular project.

As I did my research, I came across this poignant poem, made even more so by the circumstances of the young poet’s death. I’d never read it before. I became curious about Pavel and the poem. The poem, sandwiched between Pavel’s birth and murder, tell us most of what we can find out about him. I found the photo of the Butterfly Boy sculpture pictured above with its creator. The statue was inspired by the poem. I also found that a book was published, . . . I Never Saw Another Butterfly . . . , which has children’s’ drawings and poems from theTerezin Concentration Camp 1942-1944. One of the many insults of this camp was that it was set up to make Red Cross inspectors think that prisoners were being treated humanely. In fact, some 200,000 passed through this camp, known as the “waiting room for Auschwitz.” 97,297 died. 15,00o were children.

So, no. No I didn’t stay on task that day, but some detours can be moving and instructive. I think it’s worth sharing this one with you today. I’d like to say it’s posted “lest we forget.” But we have forgotten. Or, maybe we just don’t care. Genocides continue.

Terezin Children’s Cantata has posted nine of the poems from this book.

Book cover, . . . I never saw another butterly . . ., copyrighted, posted under fair use.

♥ ♥ ♥

Posted in Guest Writer, Poems/Poetry

PASS IT ON

Morning, poet/blogger  and founder of Thursday Poets Rally and Jingle Poetry (now Gooseberry Garden, which includes Sunday Poetry Picnic) is responsible for uniting and encouraging hundreds of poets online. This sweet simple acrostic poem efficiently encompasses the Buddhist spirit of metta (loving kindness) and expresses the internal joy that is quintessentially Morning. Please enjoy … J.D.

K IS FOR KINDNESS

by

Morning

(copyright 2011, all rights reserved)

Kindness is a cool attitude
It enlightens one’s aptitude
Never overlook its power
Don’t be rude, for a moment or an hour.
Nothing is as precious as kindness
Everyday one must shows mindfulness
Stay upbeat
Sweet dreams, never cheat.

·

Illustration ~ courtesy of Morning

·

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Posted in Film/Documentaries/Reviews

STUNNING, SOBERING, SANE

Video uploaded to YouTube by 

This is a non-commercial attempt to highlight the fact that world leaders, irresponsible corporates and mindless ‘consumers’ are combining to destroy life on earth. It is dedicated to all who died fighting for the planet and those whose lives are on the line today. The cut was put together by Vivek Chauhan, a young film maker, together with naturalists working with the Sanctuary Asia network (www.sanctuaryasia.com). 

Content credit: The principal source for the footage was Yann Arthus-Bertrand’s incredible film HOME. The music was by Armand Amar.

Δ

We were introduced to film by Amy Nora Doyle (SoulDipper) and knew we had to share it. The cut is from Call of the Wild Sanctuary Asia. The film, HOME, was produced by French filmmaker, Uann Arthus-Bertrand, with narration by American actor, Glenn Close. The film has reportedly been viewed by 400 million people world-wide.

According to film festival: Green Unplugged (view the entire film on their site):

HOME takes you on a visually stunning, spectacular voyage around the world. It is a unique film that approaches the current debate about climate change from a whole new angle, giving viewers the opportunity to see for themselves how our earth is changing. Going well beyond the scientific reports, charts and graphs, this film is an inspiration that speaks to our hearts and touches our souls. Spanning 54 countries and 120 locations, all seen from the air, the film captures the Earth’s most amazing landscapes, showcasing its incomparable beauty and acknowledging its vulnerability. “Home” is a compelling emotional reminder of what is at stake: Earth, in all its beauty, and the people who live on it. “Home” is the first major film about climate change that has been made using only aerial photography. The film marks artist and activist, Yann Arthus-Betrand’s feature film directorial debut. “Home” is a non-for-profit film project, produced by the French film director and producer Luc Besson (Europacorp), Denis Carot (Elzevir Films) and supported by the PPR group.

INTERNATIONAL YEAR OF THE FOREST, 2011

At the behest of the United Nation, Arthus-Bertrand also produced a short seven-minute film for International Year of Forest, 2011. It can be viewed HERE.

The International Year of Forests 2011 (Forests 2011) … is designed to convey the theme of “Forests for People” celebrating the central role of people in the sustainable management, conservation and sustainable development of our world’s forests… forests provide shelter to people and habitat to biodiversity; are a source of food, medicine and clean water; and play a vital role in maintaining a stable global climate and environment. All of these elements taken together reinforce the message that forests are vital to the survival and well being of people everywhere, all 7 billion of us. MORE [U.N., International year of Forests, 2011]

Δ

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RIVER URKE, Poet and Writer

RIVER URKE, American Poet and Writer

River Urke lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Willow, and their cat Brownie, dog Odie, and two rats. She lives and loves hugely despite the challenges of MS. 

River is a consultant on Native American culture. Her poems have been published widely. She blogs her poetry at Waabin Ozhibiiwin~ Dawn Writer. You’ll find her articles at Rivers Ruminations and her YouTube Channel at RiverMariaHer work can also be found on MS MuSings, A Monthly Online Magazine by and for those with Multiple Sclerosis. 

River edits The River Paper to which I am a contributing writer effective September 9, 2011. The River Paper is published each Friday.

We’re pleased to introduce River Urke and her work to our readers here … Her photograph and poems are copyrighted and posted on Into the Bardo with permission. J.D.

If you are viewing this on the homepage, you may have to click on the post title to get the poem to layout properly. Thank you!

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Envy

by

River Urke

·

I sit outside the day hospital after my infusion

Feeling shitty

Waiting for my taxi to come

·

I am watching all the people walk by

Focusing on their lower half

Not noticing their faces

·

I begin to feel jealous

Their legs keep pace with each other

Their stride is straight and true

·

I look down at my legs

Imagining them amongst the crowd

In the stream headed west

·

No drunken gait

No dropping foot

·

I mingle in their movement

With a sway to my step

My pace is one with theirs

·

A noise wakes me

The taxi approaches to take me home

I pick up my cane

·

I start to head towards the van

I begin to feel eyes upon me

Looking me up and down

·

I freeze at their thoughts of me

Faces revealing their pity

‘A young woman with a cane’

·

My pride pushes forward

Determined not to give in

·

I raise my head high

Stand myself tall

Again I start towards the van

·

Moving forward in my reality.

©River Urke 3/09

The Crippling Effect by River Urke:

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

POPPING POEMS AT MIDNIGHT

Poetry is not a profession, it is a destiny. Mikhail Dudan

·

POPPING POEMS AT MIDNIGHT

by

Jamie Dedes

There must be something about

the witching hour, magic after all,

when – from sound sleep – I so

suddenly awake to the silent

scratching and rough shaking

·

of a poem dropping in, uninvited

and just about fully formed, from

some unnamed peculiar heaven or

hell to disturb the languid luxury of

this rare blue somnolence. A poem

·

from neither the horn nor ivory

gate that snatches me from the

welcome arms of Morpheus, from

the land of Demos Oneiroi*, where

I long – an elegant ache – to return.

·

I chew on it like a baby chews

new food, trying to define shape

and character, to hold the memory

intact until morning when I can –

perhaps – name it. I … repeat it …

·

repeating, repeating, my mind

wrapping itself around the poem

like my arms the pillow, hugging

the  sensation of it, enjoying the

silk and nub and color of it, not

·

willing to let it go, unable to sleep.

At a chill pre-dawn hour, give

up and get up and taking the laptop

in hand, lay out the poem on a fresh

white page, ready post of the day.

·

Demos Oneiroi – the land of dreams

Artwork – Morpheus and Iris by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin, 1811

·

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Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

PIGEON PIE

Pigeon: (informal) a gullible person, especially someone swindled in gambling or the victim of a confidence trick. Oxford English Dictionary

If you are reading this on the home page, you will have to click on the post title with your mouse so that the poem lays out properly. Thank you!

·

Lives built on pigeon dreams

structured by Madison Avenue

calculated by Wall Street

beribboned  by Hollywood

We take them: these manufactured dreams

one-size-fits-all, straight off the rack . . .

And damn cheap too!

Mad, cannibal pigeon dreams,

turning good minds and whole hearts

into mince

We pray to false economies,

seek deliverance from Cheap Jack*

We buy one, get one free –

And fetch and fetish youth eternal

from face-lifts, Botox™, and boob-jobs –

Exit here:

drugs, alcohol

sex-a-PEAL

en-ter-TAIN-ment.

Get a house, a car, a jewel –

Be the first on your block.

Buy now. Pay later.

Filling the empty with nothing more,

something less . . .

and warehousing our souls, they gather

dust

in public storage . . .

first month free.

Poems unwritten. Songs unsung.

Chumped. Stumped. Petrified.

An all-American Pigeon Pie,

neatly boxed

and wrapped to go.

·

* Cheap Jack – One who sells cheap and second-rate goods. Cheap jack is a slang term for a person who may also be referred to as a “peddler”, “canvasser”, “monger” or “solicitor”. These terms have been in use in England since the 16th century as a derogatory description of traveling salespeople. Investopedia

Photo credit – Lars Konzack, Public Domain Pictures.net.

·

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Posted in Uncategorized

AN INVITATION: The Girl Effect Blogging Campaign

2011 GIRL EFFECT BLOGGING CAMPAIGN: THE POSTS!

The Girl Effect” is a powerful idea: by investing in girls in the developing world, we make an incredibly effective investment in eradicating poverty, creating thriving communities, and slowing the spread of AIDS.

[In the work of participating bloggers], you’ll find reflections about The Girl Effect . Usually, we specialize in writing about subjects ranging from business to creativity, but we invite many to take a day to write about this. Neither the participating bloggers or I (Tara Sophia Mohr) are affiliated with any organization. We are passionate about this cause.

Join the campaign! Write about The Girl Effect at your blog this week, October 4-11, 2011!

For details on writing your own post for the campaign, click here.”  [Tara Sophia Mohr/Wise Living]

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Last year I participated in this campaign. I didn’t know about the effort in a timely enough fashion to share information and an invitation. I hope this year some of you will join the effort. I look forward to reading what you write . . . This is not about leaving boys out, by the way. Boys benefit. You have to view the video to understand why girls are specifically targeted for this.

Here is what I posted last year:

I AM THE ANSWER

Photograph courtesy of Lee Wag, Public Domain Pictures.net.

As the women go, so goes the world. The Sisters of St. Joseph of Brentwood, LI, NY who raised and educated me.

FOR THE GIRLS

FOR CARE‘S INTERNATIONAL CHILDREN’S DAY

FOR EVERY MOTHER’S CHILD

by

Jamie Dedes

They come like thistle and thorn,

and write their rage upon my body.

They come like locusts and

feed on the fields of my soul.

Like an angry storm, they drown me.

Like the desert sands, they suffocate me.

They see me, a little person of

no consequence … a girl,

Just a trinket, a toy, a receptacle,

something to sell, buy, and trade.

But hear me, I am the answer.

I am the calm after the storm.

I am the antidote to

stone hearts and desiccated souls.

I am the future and the past.

I am the hope, the dream, the reality.

I am authentic.

I am human.

I am the answer.

Poem by Jamie Dedes, copyright 2010, 2011, all rights reserved.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

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Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

EARLY MORNING BLUES

EARLY MORNING BLUES

by

Jamie Dedes

And far into the night he crooned that tune

The stars went out and so did the moon.

The singer stopped playing and went to bed.

While the weary blues echoed through his head.

The Weary Blueby Langston Hughes

·

If you are reading this post on the home page, you will need to click on the post title for the poem to lay out properly.

·

Suddenly conscious, remembering, dread.

Before dawn the worst blues of the day,

those dismal black-blues of a battered heart

Gummy, gloomy blues, tangled in cobwebs

Blues – dispirited as a fatherless girl,

a widower man, a betrayed lover

Blues bereft as the loss of an old friend

Bitter-acid blues that rise in the throat of

a wage-slave, dying by slow suffocation

·

Early Morning Blues . . .

The heavy-hearted blue sludge

that weighs upon the mother with her pink slip

the father with his account overdrawn

The deep, murky sea of blue that swallows up

the homeless man begging, living on the margin

Or the homeless woman sleeping on the street,

crying her cancer pain deep into the night

The sword-in-the-heart blues

of  a family living on trash-bin dinners

The dark, churning brackish blue

of a child’s empty stomach, no food in sight

·

Early Morning Blues . . .

The helpless, hopeless, remorse-filled blues

that come as Time runs out and Eternity beckons

That darkest of hues with shivering slivers

of pewter blue, muting to grey, muting to black

Muting to light fractures in a surface

permeable and permissible, heavenly light

Or so “they” tell me . . .

·

But lost in a sea of light

will “I’ still be?

will “you” still be?

Answer me that.

What is the character of this light?

Matter or myth?

Ah, then, after all, pondering further

I find I really don’t care

I’ll poem the blues and poem my light

until all that’s left of me is what

I’ve left behind . . .

and you?

Will you leave your unwritten

blue poem hanging in the air to be

heard by those few who can?

Or, will you, like Africans of old, paint

yourself blue and boiling tears

dance around the fire and give

birth to the soul of a new art

·

Photo credit ~ Wilfredo R. Rodriguez H. via Wikipedia

♥ ♥ ♥

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MERELY HUMAN

What is staying alive? To possess

A great hall inside a cell.

What is it to be human? by Waldo Williams, Poetry  – April 2008

·

MERELY HUMAN

by

Jamie Dedes

·

finding strength and meaning as we go along,

though often caught in a swirl, dizzy spinning

of our mortality; our gender, time and place –

rash precipitation of preposterous events

and disgraceful cruelty, and the over-heated

flowing of crazy lives and loves, gritty and

grim, yet somehow grace-filled and dauntless –

like weeds pushing up pebbled concrete slabs,

bearing our path’s weight, reaching for the sun

·

Photo credit ~ Jess Norman, Public Domain Pictures.net.

 ·

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

I WOULD BE

·

However, nothing is just what it seems to be.

My objects dream and wear new costumes,

compelled to, it seems, by  all the words in my  hands

and the sea that bangs in my throat.

The Room of My Life by Anne Sexton in The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton

I WOULD BE

by

Jamie Dedes

I would be that ancient red rosebush

sitting in meditation beside the creek

that flows near the home-place and

a belt of vacant land, wide-awake wood

·

I would be a thorn-and-thistle-free me,

a cool, soothing fog, a silken river-stone,

or a whiff of magnolia traveling through

dark night on an aquamarine breeze

·

An old hunger rises in me to rest calm

beside the safe harbor of rambling rill,

days writ in gently cautious calligraphy,

mind as empty and conscious as a forest

·

But rosebush and wood endure winter

and the creek its dry-spell, river-stone’s

silken finish is born of the chaffing wave,

the magnolia was felled by the gardener

·

Photo credit ~ Christine Vincent, Public Domain Pictures.net.

·

Posted in Essay, Guest Writer

THE TILTH OF THE EARTH

Tilth of the Skin

TILTH OF THE EARTH
·
by
·
Amy Nora Doyle  (SoulDipper)
·

Dirt.  Black, soft, moist, cool clumps of sensuous-feeling prairie dirt tumbled through my memory like tumbleweeds bouncing across an open field.

Jamie Dedes wrote about Dirt and conjured memories of pawing hands, wiggly fingers and big noses.  Visions of prairie farmers grabbing fistfuls of healthy humus, fingering it thoroughly, smelling it, working it through rubbed palms, and even tasting it, came back to me with the clarity of a close-up video.

Why did they do this routine?  As a child, I had watched them, riveted and serious, working handfuls of soil as if preparing for surgery.  The world stopped.  Their full attention was on the response of the soil to its handling.  What were those farmers doing?

Nagged by ignorance, I decided to visit an octagenarian who farmed most of her adult life in Manitoba.  Rose is the 88 year old mother of a departed friend.

Driving to Rose’s house, Jamie Dedes was on my mind.  She started this.  She published a post, “Ultimately Dirt”, on her blog titled Into the Bardo.  If you peek at the link, you’ll see there’s a book and a film about the soil of this planet.

Bill Logan wrote “Dirt: The Ecstatic Skin of the Earth”.  He wrote it while living in New York City.  Jamie just happens to come from Brooklyn.  What irony that two urban New Yorkers wake up this prairie person to the phenomenal aliveness of dirt.  It is precious.  We all know we need it to grow anything worth eating, but there’s more to it.  It’s teeming with life.  It’s a full, living organism.  It is home to microscopic life that creates the healthy properties we need in our soil.

I’ve been taking dirt for granted.  I hadn’t thought about how many layers and years of leaves, grasses, manure, and other flora it takes to create the soil that I kicked away and swept off my walkway with impunity.   I hadn’t fully considered the effect of the world’s greed on soil.

When I arrived at Rose’s home, she was sitting outside enjoying her small garden.

Tilth of the Soil

“Rose, this may seem like a dumb question, but I want to ask you about farmers.  When they grabbed a handful of dirt and started doing all those machinations, what were they doing?”

“You mean when they’d squeeze it in their hands?”  I nodded.  “And when they’d rub it between their fingers…sometimes smell it?”

“Yes! That’s what I remember.  Some even tasted it.  I saw some put their tongues on it.  Why?”

“Testing it.” Rose said.

“For what?”

Rose looked at me as though I was a bit simple. “To see if it was okay.”

“Rose, I know they were testing it.  Okay for what?”

“Well, to see if it was ready for planting.”  Her tone indicated that anyone would know this fact.  Obviously this was like asking her to describe looking through blue eyes.

“Okay.  What were they looking for in the soil to know it was ready for planting?”

“Let’s see…moisture.  It shouldn’t be too dry.  If it was, they prayed for a bit of rain.  If it was too wet, they prayed for hot, sunny days.”  She grinned as she paused.  “What else?  It shouldn’t be too sandy.”

“If it was, what would they do about it?”

“Add some good manure probably.”  More silence.  “The soil had to have a good balance of acid and alkaline.   Willows love alkaline.  Where willows grow, you know the soil is too alkaline.  Clay has a lot of alkaline.  Wheat likes a bit of acid.”  She began to rhyme off which crops preferred acid and which prefer alkaline.

“So that tiny gesture told them all they needed to know about planting.  When to plant, what to plant…it even told them if they had to roll out the manure wagons.”  Rose nodded as she listened.

Suddenly she threw up her arms, “Tilth!”

“What?”

“Tilth of the soil.  That’s the word!  They test the tilth of the soil*!”

“Spell that, Rose.  I’ve never heard the word.”

The well-being of our nation depends upon the tilth of the soil. 

No… the well-being of the world depends upon it.

The tilth of our skin has been too much of a big deal – 

Now it’s time to concentrate on the tilth of our planet’s skin.

Tilth of the Earth

* From Wikipedia:

Tilth can refer to two things:

Tillage and a measure of the health of soil.

Good tilth is a term referring to soil that has the proper structure and nutrients to grow healthy crops. Soil in good tilth is loamy, nutrient-rich soil that can also be said to be friable because optimal soil has a mixture of sand, clay and organic matter that prevents severe compaction.

Photo credits ~ Google.ca/search

Posted in Buddhism

BUDDHIST GLOBAL RELIEF: Walk of Compassion

Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Found of Buddhist Global Relief

The gift of food is the gift of life. ~ The Buddha

Buddhist Global Relief 2nd Annual Walk to Feed the Hungry

3.5 mile walk • Saturday, September 10, 2011
9:30 a.m. Check-in • 10:00 a.m. Walk • Rain or Shine!
Riverside Park, W. 83rd St. & Riverside Dr., New York, NY
(Please register by September 1st)

-BHANTE BUDDHARAKKHITA: WALK LEADER
-GUEST SPEAKER: MICHAEL ROEHM, BGR Adviser
-FREE VEGETARIAN PICNIC LUNCH AFTER THE EVENT!

Today we can send men into space, but here on earth chronic hunger and malnutrition still cast their shadows over the heads of far too many people, claiming ten million lives a year, more than half of them children. Though we may never know or see these folks, we should recognize that they are human beings just like ourselves, worthy of our deepest concern. Together we can make a difference, and it doesn’t take much to help them live in dignity and hope! All proceeds from the walk will go to support BGR’s global hunger relief programs. MORE

Photo credit ~ Bhikku Bodhi, American Buddhist monk, taken in 2003 by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki licensed under the Creative Commons Attritution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikipedia.

Posted in Uncategorized

IN METTA FOR THE 76 AND THEIR FAMILIES

Everyone engaged by a reporter seems to know that life will never be the same in a country where people don’t lock their doors and police are routinely unarmed. They welcome statements from their political leaders that Norway must not succumb to fear and must maintain its open societyBut many also sense that the attacks that killed 76 last Friday have changed everything. MORE [TIME]

IN SYMPATHY WITH NORWAY

AND ITS PAIN

*

IN SOLIDARITY WITH THE

FAMILIES OF THOSE WHO DIED OR WERE INJURED

*

WITH SADNESS FOR 

THOSE WHO LOST THEIR LIVES

AND FOR THE ONE

WHOSE INSANITY BIRTHED THIS TRAGEDY

Photograph from Norway, The Official Site in the United States

Posted in Essay, Jamie Dedes

DISABLED, NOT UNABLE: No Arms, No Legs, No Worries

Video posted to YouTube by .

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Joseph P. Kennedy Sr., former U.S. Ambassador to the U.K. and father of John F. and Robert F., and Edward.

Motivation gets you through the day, but inspiration last a lifetime. Nick Vuicic, inspirational speaker

I’m sure there are many, many people who are following our limbless-but-nimble Nick, especially in Australia (his homeland) and the United States, where he is now living in California. He’s a great inspiration. He helps put things in perspective. In the light of his challenges, the vast majority of us have nothing to complain about. He makes it darn difficult to make excuses. More than that, he demonstrates that disability is not inability. He follows a work schedule that would exhausted lesser folk.

Attitude Is altitude. Nick Vujicic

If I wanted anyone to get – really get –  one of the underlying messages here, it would be employers. At one time, about a hundred years ago now, I was responsible for hiring and/or hiring recommendations for a retail company. I often advocated – usually unsuccessfully – for people who were bright, talented, and “disabled.” The latter is a term we use lightly and take literally. It can be deceptive.

As you can see from Nick’s video and his life, people who are disabled are not necessarily unable. Often people have disabilities, but are generally healthy. . . . just as healthy as most other working folks. They can be depended upon to maintain a normal work schedule. A high rate of absenteeism may be implicit in those situations that involve illness, but not everyone who is disabled is ill. Those who are not, those who are blind or deaf or have lost limbs or are otherwise disfigured, are not ill. They are all there mentally, have skills, ability, training and education, and have learned to work around their challenges. They have lower risk for workers’ comp because they tend to be more aware and more careful in how they maneuver in the workplace. Often, they need only minimal – if any – real accommodation. There’s no reason not to hire them. In the current economy, they are having a tougher-than-usual time competing for jobs, not because of real barriers to entry but because of perceived barriers harbored by employers. This is an appeal: please give them the same fair chance you’d give anyone else.

For more on Nick – Brave Heart: No Arms, No Legs, No Worries.

Posted in Essay, Guest Writer

A FULL LIFE …

Charlie Badenhop

It is my pleasure to introduce the wisdom of my friend, Charlie Badenhop, on our pages. Charlie is the internationally recognized creator of the human potential discipline of Seishindo . He is also a highly respected life-coach, practitioner of self-relations psychotherapy, and neuro-linguistic programming. He first published the essay below in his Seishindo newsletter, Pure Heart, Simple Mind. I find it brings a very important message to our readers. R.R.

·

“A FULL LIFE IS NOT NECESSARILY

A LONG LIFE”

by

Charlie Badenhop

Posted here with permission. All rights reserved.

Are you living your life appreciating what you DO have, or are you lamenting what still seems to be missing?

Three years ago the eight year old daughter of a friend died in a freak accident at school. My friend was devastated and I could not think of any wise words that might console him.

As the weeks rolled by my friend slipped into an ever deeper sense of despair, and nothing anyone said seemed to lift his spirit.

After a few months time he went out-of-town on a business trip, and on the train ride back he engaged in conversation with the woman sitting next to him. The woman sat there and nodded her head often as my friend talked about the death of his daughter. He reported to me that he had the sense of talking and talking and talking, until he finally felt like he had nothing more to say.

As my friend came to a natural state of rest, the woman nodded her head one more time as she took a deep breath, and then said the following, “I can very much feel your pain, and I understand the loss of your child must be devastating.”

“At the same time,” she said, “I wonder if your pain would not be lessened if you celebrated the life your daughter did have.”

“You told me about your daughter’s sense of awe the first time you took her to the ocean, and how you carried her in your arms as you waded out into the water.”

“You also spoke about the many times she sat on your lap and told you about the magical adventures she had during the course of her day.”

“Perhaps the sweetest story you shared was how you told your daughter every night how much you loved her as you tucked her into bed.”

“I’m wondering,” the woman said, “What is it that leads you to believe you and your daughter did not live a full and glorious life together?”

“Is it because she died at eight years old and not at eighty? Certainly it would seem that the quality of one’s life is not tied to the length of one’s life.”

“I would like to gently suggest that you and your daughter did live a full and complete life together. She just didn’t live as long as you had hoped for and expected.”

As the train neared the station the woman continued speaking. “I am seventy-two years old, and in looking back on my life I don’t feel I have shared with anyone, the depth of experience and love you and your daughter had together.”

“On one hand this makes me deeply sad. On the other hand, it wakes me up to the fact that my life is not yet finished. I can begin today to live the life I truly desire.”

“This is the realization that your experience has helped me to understand, and for this wonderful gift I thank you deeply.”

The woman smiled as she stood up, preparing to exit the train. “None of us know how long we have to live. No one has control over the length of their life.”

“The quality of our life on the other hand, is something you can ensure on a daily basis. An emotionally fulfilling life is a complete life, regardless of how many years you live. A life without love seems to take forever to end.”

“We’ll do well to appreciate what we do have, rather than lamenting about what we don’t.”

To the readers of this [blog post], I gently suggest you consider how you want to live your life, in order to ensure that your time on earth is fulfilling and complete.

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

FROM THE BEGINNING

Family photo subject to copyright.

·

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day

When the last fires will wave to me

And the silence will set out

For the Anniversary of My Death, W.S. MerwinThe Second Four Books of Poems

FROM THE BEGINNING

by

Jamie Dedes

It was yesterday

that I retrieved my soul at last

moved by the placid persuasion of a psalm

reminding me of my rootedness

in the archives of heaven

 ·

In earlier times

life lay ahead, a rhythm of reciting tones

a paced chant before all that somber news

and facing facts and quiet homely work

of peacemaking for your sake

 ·

But this morning

I awoke a fading mendicant nun

reading my own rich requiem Mass

celebrating my heart’s trove

and your constant love

 ·

A few more breaths

and I’m a whisper in your ear

an old story of someone who birthed you

now melting into the great Forever

leaving us only a hallowed cord

 ·

From the beginning, Son

your spirit was to us a joy dancing

a perfect poem finely etched in old gold

holding fast to beauty and grace

faithful to your own gentle spirit

 ·

Listen to the hollows in the wind.

Listen, Son –

how love encircles and

echoes from the small Beginning  ….

into the great Forever

Posted in Guest Writer, Poems/Poetry

omg rejection letter

Copyright 2011, Charles Martin

Charles Martin blogs at Read Between the Minds. We are pleased to present another of his fine poems on Into the Bardo. J.D.

·

omg rejection letter

by

Charles Martin

·

we regret

to inform you

that your application

for sainthood

has been

denied

please note

this is

no reflection

upon what you’ve been

saying

but

praying for

the poor

the homeless

peace

et cetera

is not

the same as

doing

something

for those individuals

or

areas of concern

your wishful prayers

are indeed

characteristic of

an

admirable personality

and

we appreciate

your frequent

and

considerable

soliloquies with us

but

we’re

rather filled up

with folks

with

good

intentions


Posted in Jamie Dedes, Music, Poems/Poetry

BACH FOR BUDDHA

BACH FOR BUDDHA

by

Jamie Dedes

Sunday morning peace

Icy floors, my begging bowl

and Bach for Buddha

If you click on the video twice, you’ll link through to YouTube to watch it. We apologize for the inconvenienc. Thank you!

Video posted to YouTube by .

Photo credit ~ courtesy of The Buddha Gallery, unusual vintage Chinese monk with offering bowl.

Sarabande ~ began as a dance in triple metre in the 14th century in Central America and evolved in 16th century Europe into a slower musical form. J.S. Bach’s Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello are perhaps the most recognized solos written for cello and remain among Bach’s most popular works.