Karinaland River

  “I Wanted All Of Society To Be A Witness.” These days, when tears spring up in the eye so quickly, so readily like tiny wild strawberries, each time I know the heart is touched whether I want it or not – the silvery breathy voice of the young science writer, the shy bowing of the singer receiving her applause, the sweet smile of Cecile after an exquisite concert, the fiercely angry voices of French admirers of Gisèle Pelicot. And then of course: the grandson, one arm around his 72-year-old grandmother’s shoulder as she gives her brief speech to the press after a grueling months-long public trial of rape. He admiringly glances at her, with utter calm, concentration and confidence, soft support in his face and body language, nothing restless, over bearing, pitying – only admiration, respect and love. And I burst into tears! This rape story is not about a celebrity, starlet, beauty queen, but about a retired manager, married mother and grandmother, having been drugged unconscious an...

  Beavers are Back On rare Sundays when he was not working, or sick, or out of town, our father would take us to the wild woods, the meadows – empty of people – the forests, rivers and hidden lakes. It is just our small family in nature, no crowds. Back in 1959, there were no man-made paths, nature areas, or visitor centers, signs to explain the natural wonders. It was utter freedom and beauty, nature organizing itself in the relaxed harmony that eludes humans. I still remember the first time he shows us beavers and their landscaping skills – I am in awe and in love! What superb architects, artists, and engineers the beavers are. Humans can’t do what they do. At age five, I have already decided that I want to become an architect. Papa explains to us the work and construction skills of the beavers. It strikes me that the beavers’ minds seem to contain an overview of big stretches of land. They know collectively where to fell trees with their sharp teeth, build dams and homes, make s...

  War and Peace   The endless experiment of humans trying to become real human beings here on Earth. It is difficult, a mystery. So much peeling-away is needed, first of all. Pain, fear, anger, sorrow, hate. And so much inconvenient truth would need to be faced. Ignorance, greed, envy, cruelty, hubris. When “ all we are saying is give peace a chance ” ends with a murder eleven years later, we must embrace that too. December 8 – forty-four years ago. When innocence gets punctured, we must learn what is offered. “I just shot John Lennon.” In that moment we could have learned that the world of stardom, celebrity, fame is inherently violent. Do we understand? We all are “ walking on thin ice ” when we think just ONE thing will save us, or the world. But simplicity is full of complexity, waiting to be understood. The paradoxes always belong together – ­this I love about the ancient wisdom and the Art of T’ai Chi Ch’uan. Yin and Yang are forming one reality, not two. Dividing into g...

  Love of the World It is not about good or bad, convenient or sorrowful, terrifying or relaxing. It is about being alive to secret languages, to the silence amidst the noise. It is about including all. My love of the world is roused by the smallest things, by minute experiences. Witnessing the crow across the street swoop from the neighbor’s live oak down to the asphalt close to the curb – she takes a bath in the rushing stream created by the atmospheric river. This morning, storming and raining, the world densely grey and mysterious, unseen activities escape the human eye. From my living room, I can sense the crow’s movements echoing in my own body. Dunking the head into the stream, wiggling, coming up and shaking, taking a whole-body plunge, beating wings rapidly, coming up, shaking off, doing this a few more times, then swooping up back into tree.   It does not get any better.  Delicious. Secret bathing. I have done so in woods. Here nobody was watching or interr...