“Be sure you wait for the “walk” sign” said a man’s friendly voice behind me. I was attempting to cross Lakeshore Blvd., the heavily-trafficked nexus of our neighborhood shopping area. I turned to see a slender man in his mid-seventies, wearing a dark blue and red cap, jauntily tilted to one side. “I am a Vietnam War veteran, he told me proudly…

Our original Liberty Bell arrived in Philadelphia from England in 1735, cracked on arrival. Although it has been re-cast, repaired and re-repaired, still the crack remains, a poignant symbol of the deep fissure in our society between those of white, European ancestry and those of African ancestry. There are very few bridges by which this chasm can be crossed.

Let’s all take a few deep breaths of relief. Whew! It was a close call on January 6. But let’s also not forget that the happiness of “deliverance from evil” is not necessarily permanent. Deliverance from evil is something that must happen every day. Neither evil nor deliverance from evil are permanent conditions.

When my first grandchild was born, his survival was not certain. He spent many weeks between worlds in the neo-natal care unit of the hospital before he was released to the care of his parents. When I met him he was already wide-awake and conscious.

I was riding on the local municipal buses in Oakland, CA, where I live. One evening the bus was particularly crowded. I was sitting, but many people were standing, including a mother holding her six-month old baby in one arm while hanging onto the pole with the other. The baby began to cry, quickly escalating to a piercing shriek.

I love to go to my physical therapist’s wide-open office. First, I take the elevator up to the top floor of the 14-story building. The room is full of light entering through an entire wall of huge windows framing a panoramic view of the Oakland hills, with white clouds drifting across the deep blue sky. I am warmly greeted by angels with smiles and free coffee and kind, helpful and empathetic practitioners. I’ll just stay here, I think, but I only have 30 minutes and then I have to go back down the elevator to the street, where there are…

On top of my refrigerator there sits a philodendron, which, since I am short, I seldom see and even more seldom, water. The other day, I looked up and really saw it. The leaves were curled up and turning brown. “It’s going to die!” I said to myself, “unless I water it right away.” I couldn’t reach it with the watering can, so I pulled it down, put it in the sink, and turned on the water. It was a last ditch resuscitation effort.

Since I am almost 89, I am one of the “vulnerable” ones, but I don’t feel vulnerable. I feel protected. Why?

Since my last post, I have been singing “Morning Has Broken” every day, and truly, no matter what the time, it makes the sun rise for me. The singing doesn’t have to be perfect. It only needs to come from the heart. The saying should not be “Home is where the heart is”, but “The Heart is where Home is”.

This morning, the first morning of 2020, as I was standing in the kitchen looking out the window to the apartment building next door, Cat Stevens’ beloved song, “Morning Has Broken” suddenly started playing in my mind. I have not heard that song for many years, but all of sudden, there it was –

It had to be done just so – the frame for my new Name, “Entering on the Path of Energy”, written for me in beautiful Japanese calligraphy by an aikido master. “Do-Ro-Chi,” he had written in rapidly flowing characters, laughing as he finished and handed it to me with a flourish.

Mc2 and Inner Space Our cells are hungry for mc2, matter vibrating at the square of the speed of light. From birth until the end of life, we are searching for mc2 through food, drugs, yoga, meditation, sports, TV, knowledge, all feeding our endless hunger for more mc2. Notice that, besides eating some delectable food,

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