Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
Continue reading “The Summer Day, by Mary Oliver”
In Plum Village, where I live in France, we receive many letters from the refugee camps in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines, hundreds each week. It is very painful to read them, but we have to do it, we have to be in contact. We try our best to help, but the suffering is enormous, and sometimes we are discouraged. It is said that half the boat people die in the ocean. Only half arrive at the shores in Southeast Asia, and even then they may not be safe. Continue reading “Call Me By My True Names, by Thich Nhat Hanh”
the edges of things are always deceptive.
because we are taught to believe
in endings and beginnings.
but the truth is:
There Are No Borders.
and all boundaries are lines
drawn in the imagination
(like the equator)
people like to put things
in their places.
(we believe in belonging
this is the problem with
(it does not understand
belonging) Continue reading “I Double Dare You, by Pavi Mehta”
Two weeks ago, a few of us visited an elderly Gandhian couple in Baroda — Arun Dada and Mira Ba. Now in their 80s, their entire life has been rooted in generosity. As students of Vinoba, they have never put a price tag on their labor. Their presence speaks to a life-long practice of equanimity, trust and compassion. And so do their stories. Continue reading “Arun Dada and Mira Ba, by Nipun Mehta”