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. Â The chronic depression Iâ€™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
Itâ€™s beginning to feel as if Iâ€™m writing a book.Â For a number of years I worried that if I ever figured life out Iâ€™d be required to write a bookâ€”and what an awful lot of work that would be.Â As to figuring things outâ€¦well letâ€™s just say that Iâ€™m writing the book and leave it at that.
So far, Iâ€™ve come up with only three clues.Â 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.Â 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. Â Simon is five and seems to me to be a bit hyperactive. Â Oh, right, that’s not a diagnosis…he’s just five. Â So by nine Sunday morning Continue reading