Karinaland River

Folding and Unfolding   How to fold?   Fold myself into the world and its troubles.   Unfold the questions. The sneaking helplessness. How to breathe myself into a Luftballon? Helium balloons floating high. Eagle-eye view. Fold myself into the fierce defense of a small spider. Hiding, scrambling. Once outside, she is ready to spin her web, again. How does she do it? Six legs. Our hands, too, fold and unfold... Could we fold ourselves into a sanctuary? Become shelter. Unfolding lurking anger. Eyes shine with gratitude. Allowing for confusion, wrinkles, not knowing. Astonishment. Surprise. Space for koala bears, storks, and hawks alike. Beckoning the heart so hurt to transform. Into a treasure chest for swollen moons. Solace. Insight. Wrapped into cosmic invisible arms. Geborgenheit. Folding. A refuge for lonely mothers with sensitive little boys. Who must cry, can’t help but wail. Too much, too fast. Overwhelm. Tears and ultimate letting go. How does she protect her hands,...

  Expecting the Unexpected   Engaging with life in this open mindset beckons us to be fully awake, present, observant. Centered and grounded. It keeps us nimble, responsive, flexible. Fluid and flowing. Seduces us into curiosity, aliveness – open to new experiences. Whatever they are. When I arrive at the beach, before reaching the top of the dune, I don’t know what the rainstorms,  waves, ebb and flow will have washed away, built, or eroded since my last visit. What will it look like? Will the sand dollars be abundant? The pelicans perhaps absent? The whale skull gone? The “iron beast” submerged or exposed? Today, the Pacific is unusually calm and smooth, as if to show the way, offer a different possibility. The waves are rolling in slow and low, only once in a while they are crashing. The seagulls and long-billed sand pipers are hanging out with each other, peacefully. Bundles of tangled seaweed, plenty of sand dollars, pebbles. And further down, a lonely big elephant s...

Choosing do we choose who we are – are we? quite ruffled by the winds of time the king’s revengeful laughter the mob’s out and inbreaths we are early bloomers fragrant & delicate   our five petalled faces freckled with hints of rose naked winter firmly boosting in-born curiosity timid slugs traveling stem, leaf and blossom we chose to greet fog  frost  rainstorm  sun tell tales of countering old king’s cruelties defying spread of terror – we are alive   do we choose our windblown tininess, do we? helpless in mudslides and furious flooding disheveled rumpled hesitant and stirred   infused with goodness we still glow huddled in flocks yet declaring all life is sacred – we chose newly confused uncombed tiny and eager cruelly tossed  troubled  shaggy  hollow prepared to be surprised by tears yet with fierce true compass    trembling in turbulent times – do we   choose? life… and somehow bow Karina Epperlein, January 29, 2025 Pr...

  I Shall Bear Witness   History never repeats exactly, but the patterns are often similar. With everyone now wildly speculating about the future and what’s to come, I look for inspiration to a voice from my birth country’s darkest times:  Victor Klemperer . A month ago, I pull out the two hefty volumes of his diaries: I Will Bear Witness, the Nazi years 1933 – 1942, and 1942 – 1945 . The German title is: Ich will Zeugnis ablegen bis zum letzten. The literal translation: I want to bear witness  to the last .  To the last. Published in German in 1995, very good translation into English in 1998. Victor Klemperer (1881 – 1960) was a Jewish-born German literary scholar, a cousin of the famous conductor Otto Klemperer, married to Eva, an “Aryan” German, one of the factors that helped the couple to miraculously survive. After the war they settle back in Dresden, which is East Germany under Russian control in 1945. His diaries also survive. They are truly stunning. Pet...