It is early spring and I drive to Kripalu, a Center for Yoga and Health, in the Birskhire Mountains. I arrive in a depressing, dismal cold rain, but after a couple of days in retreat, the storm in the sky and the one in my mind are beginning to clear. The chronic depression I’d hoped to get a handle on, all the hopelessness, anxiety and fear, are seeming to be no more than a prank I’m playing on myself.
It is the evening of my last supper here, which has threatened to make me a vegetarian by deliciousness alone. Continue reading
It’s beginning to feel as if I’m writing a book. For a number of years I worried that if I ever figured life out I’d be required to write a book—and what an awful lot of work that would be. As to figuring things out…well let’s just say that I’m writing the book and leave it at that.
So far, I’ve come up with only three clues. Continue reading
My wife Barbara and our good friend Heide conspired to take Heidi’s daughter Madelyne to the Nutcracker Ballet in Boston on a recent Sunday afternoon. We all thought it would be a good idea for the guys to do something together on the same day, so Madelyne’s dad Powell and I planned a trip to a museum with Simon. Simon is five and seems to me to be a bit hyperactive. Oh, right, that’s not a diagnosis…he’s just five. So by nine Sunday morning Continue reading