Friday, May 18, 2018

School's out

... for summer.

We had a going-away party for a teacher today. He and his wife are moving to California. They got great jobs and bought a lovely house.

We worked together for 10 years. We shared an office for the first few. When I asked him a question, he told me to figure it out. Sounds harsh, but it made me laugh, and helped me be as independent as I naturally am. His wife worked with us for a bit too. Both are wonderful amazing intelligent teachers and humans.

So today we had a party. We ordered $200 of food: fried rice, vegies, seafood, chicken, spring rolls, and crab rangoons. The seafood dish was loaded with shrimp, scallops, and lobster. Everyone said the chicken was great. Everything I ate was delicious. We gave him presents, suitable for packing up and driving across the country. Coffee cards, coffee mug, toilet paper, dog biscuits, and books on tape.

There were three of us in our department, together for 10 years. Now there will be two.

And two excellent friends are heading west. 

Thursday, October 26, 2017

all one

Today, after a short presentation on the history of racism, and before a quiz, my nursing class meditated on the concept on "oneness." We are all one, all connected.

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Reiki class

My students are listening, feeling, and learning. They are researching and writing.

We did Reiju at the pond this week. Frogs bellowed, turtles bobbed, water lilies shone. One student felt vibrations. Two saw colors. All participated. It was marvelous.

They are Reiki. We are Reiki. I love to teach. 

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Wellness Conference

Was so much fun. I could have spent three days talking to the wonderful crowd of magical people. I think we had enough food for three days. I wanted to talk to everyone and attend all the presentations, but I kept having to check on something, fix something, or answer an important question. I did make it to the final workshop: Kirtan. I love Kirtan. Sound healing from inside and out. Sound meditation; connection with self, spirit, and community. I love the moment when the chant ends and it's silent, breathing, maybe a gasp of wonderment.

We'll do it again next year.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

grass

The two women took me on me on a tour of their city. I was travelling in the southwest USA and they were best friends.

"These are the best houses," they told me. "Where the rich people live."

I looked quickly for hints of amusement and deception, but could detect none. They were chattering and bickering with each other, as usual, casually admiring the homes, paying no notice to me in the back seat.

The houses looked worse than the poorest houses in Maine. Mud houses in dirt yards. Old wood fences around the perimeters. The houses were crowded together with short driveways and clear views to the neighbors. Small windows. Dirt houses in dirt yards. These were the best houses?

"There's the river," they pointed out.

I looked down into a long depression in the dirt.

"Dry now," they added, unnecessarily.

I thought of New England's best houses. Grand three storey clapboards, long windows with green shutters. White and yellow houses and green lawns, white picket fences. Long driveways, trees, and beds of bright flowers. Or the newer boxy places with lots of glass and fancy landscaping, a pool out back.

They can't even afford a lawn, I thought, ignorant, confused; not understanding the economics, environment, or culture. I thought again that it must be a trick. I thought I'd like to walk in the wild desert and feel nature in this strange place.