Today is Rumi’s birthday I’m a hunter with a heart. Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi (born September 30, 1207) is the greatest Sufi mystic and poet in the Persian language, born in Bakh, which is nowadays Afghanistan. Nowadays Rumi has been taken in by New Age spirituality, and exoticism. Well, I have a book that I brought back from my journey to Iran in 2008. It has beautiful artwork and Rumi poems in Persian and English, translated by Persian writers for the most part, not Westerners. These translations I cherish, they are more original, and have puzzling typos :) The same "problem" goes for translations of Hafiz. And even the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, whose English versions always surprise me: really, is that what it is supposed to mean? In German, Rilke’s language is more complex, ambiguous, evocative, not as easy to grasp, inviting us to ponder, and wonder. Of course we always lose when translating. But I find in American English things are “explained” and therefore lend
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In the Spring of 2020, I made little cards, one word on each, initially to play with them when teaching on zoom , holding them up close to the screen, as a way of communicating. Later I loved drawing them, having them around, and adding them to letters to friends. These words describe certain states I felt arise in me daily, often for no obvious reason. Maybe they were highlighted by so much suffering, upset, death, loss, misery, and uprising all around. But the collective disruption of life as usual felt liberating. Complete uncertainty on all levels created also room for beautiful and humble ways of simply being alive. A deep sense of awe & reverence, gratitude & wonder, quiet joy & delight in smallest things, these were often struck like little silver bells deep in my heart – and now I did not need to hide this fact as much anymore... I call these words of delight
Approaching the beach on the gravelly path, the soles of my bare feet are breathing a multitude of sensations – and I wonder if it will be windy, cool or balmy. As soon as I reach the highest point of the sand dune that yields entrance to the beach, a deep awe starts permeating through my skin. The far horizon – where ocean and sky are flowing happily into each other – seems close. An all consuming, soft, grey-green light is enveloping my body. It is reaching deep into my ribcage memory chest. Cresting waves play their music. The salty breeze infuses my lungs, skin, and belly. Breath stretches itself into the expansive beach. Eyes melt and familiar sensations from a long time ago arise with the rhythmic waves. My seventeen-year-old self in the Bretagne, first time at the Atlantic Ocean…. edged deep into my bone memory…. remembering with soft wonder what it feels like when the Unknown moves into close contact and embraces our sense of Being…. Here now at the Pacific Ocean at the e
My garage doors still surprise me every time I come home. For the past year and more, I have been experiencing them as a "prayer wall" – especially when standing in front, alone, or with others, or even from across the street. A mysterious intimacy arises in my heart, and I have observed this also in strangers who stop and contemplate. I wonder if therefore the conversations at this "prayer wall" always have a special flavor. We stop, slow down, and taste the sacredness of life.... In a comment beneath the series of black & white stills, Nicky wrote two weeks ago a beautiful musing about her looking at (and painting on) the memorial : "when i look at this wall it feels like a prayer or meditation in memory. as someone from a colonized history, my ancestors come from the islands known as "the philippines," reclaiming prayer, practicing prayer is sometimes a struggle. my imagination creates snapshots of the peoples' lives as my eyes wan
Finding the Gold Within – in Retrospect In September of 2020, Sam Piha did an interview with me for his Afterschool Blog about my film Finding the Gold Within and why I chose to make “race” a prominent theme in the documentary (released in 2014). In the piece Sam also included links to press coverage of my 641 Garage BLM Memorial Mural Project . I was surprised – it made me realize how related the film project (2011- 2018) was to the mural. And how in my work and life, everything is intimately related, no separation. At Pacifica Graduate Institute, in 2015. The six protagonists of Finding the Gold Within with the film's director. From left: Darius, Stacee, Karina, Imani, Shawntrail, Brandyn, Stacee Sam Piha and his organizations Temescal Associates , Learning in Afterschool & Summer , and How Kids Learn Foundation – who for decades have done wonderful and important work for Afterschool teachers and programs – have helped over the years to organize highly successfu
Today marks the beginning of a new season. On the Autumnal Equinox in the Northern Hemisphere, night and day are equal – a time of balance and equality, temperance and moderation. Perhaps a day and a night, or a week, for us to reflect on universal equality within differences, equality within uniqueness and biodiversity – honoring equality on all levels of basic human rights, and rights of animals, earth and nature, and of the elements like water and air, fire and metal. A time to balance and harmonize our own body and mind. A time to harvest and share – a time to invite and cultivate serenity, harmony and rest…. A time to let go, like the leaves falling and becoming compost. Transitions. A time for downward movement, sinking, centering, a time for gravity, and for allowing breath to carry us with more ease…. and spaciousness…. What are your harmonizing or equalizing intentions for the Equinox? What are you letting fall away?
Cello Lessons Every week I get to have a luxurious lesson with my cello teacher Bob Ng – learning, exploring, being nervous when playing for him, hoping that I can memorize the prelude just a bit better, with clearer intonation, looking for progress. He is so encouraging, but also precise, and knows just when to introduce the next challenge! I am lucky to have found such a great teacher. We often also talk about life, culture, and the wonders of the mind and brain. Like today it was the art of simultaneous translation, which we both are in awe of. Bob is a cello wizard, but also a wizard in many other things, like B&W Art Photography, translating English, Japanese and Chinese – and I only know the tiniest bits of his life. But his open and highly perceptive mind is a true delight for me. Tuesdays is my precious Cello Day. So I protect my Tuesdays. Back home from the lesson, I eat, and then try to recapture Bob’s comments, new exercises, the way he uses bow and fingerings, his sou
Full Moon Day – Vollmond – Harvest Full Moon This Monday seems to be full of smiles . On my late morning walk I harvest them like very ripe, beautiful pears. Multi-colored and fragrant smiles on a bright “blue sky and bay” day. I meet Gregg and his little dog Lucca, and get caught up on the neighborhood affairs and plumbing stories. From the recycling truck operator, to the landscapers carrying heavy flag stones, to the happy looking house owner, to the older man with big poodle, to the delivery guy in back of his truck, I look into faces that are ready to smile, or is it me who is smiling already, initiating a response? Probably both... Earlier in the morning, the garden keeps me longer. Pruning, raking, sweeping, listening. I am “patrolling” the big grounds, gathering dry stuff. A quarter of an acre on the hill, for the most part I take care of it by myself. Relieved that I have been able to keep up with cleaning out – fire danger – but also making sure that the land keeps its own
It's Quince time – this fruit so beautiful – like precious Queens! My small tree carried a lot this year, but then over night comes some animal and gorges on the still green fruit, and most of them will be gone – no traces left... squirrels, rats, or...fox? Since I love quince cooked in all forms, the sharing with wildlife is harder in this case :) My mother used to make quince candy for the winter months. Cooking the fruit first, then spreading it on a sheet and baking it in the oven on low heat for many hours into firm jelly. When she cuts it into small rectangular pieces and rolls them in sugar, they are not sticky anymore, but jewel like. Quittenbrot. I marveled at this long transformative process as a kid. The taste so unbelievably good. Fragrant, sweet, and tart all at once. A special limited treat, mostly offered in December. (High vitamin C content). Lasting us with Mama's oversight till Spring perhaps. Did she learn this from growing up in Brazil? They have goiaba
For two years now, I don’t leave the house without one or two ten-dollar bills in my pocket, even though I have given up getting snacks, or take-out food, my budget is very tight these days. But i might meet god in disguise. Today it is a frail white lady with long white hair like me. Hesitantly she walks up to me as I am turning from feeding the parking meter. She starts almost inaudibly: “Can I ask you a question?” I move closer looking straight into her big pale blue eyes: “Sure.” Without thinking, I am already pulling out that bill, how could I not. She is about my age, late sixties, just by pure luck I am not in her shoes. She nods grateful, but says immediately: “Do you have another ten?” I don’t, but I find four more beat up one-dollar notes in my wallet. She asks me for my name, I ask for hers. Suzanne moves closer and confides: ”I’ll tell you something, I have been here for 3 hours, and you are the first one to give, they all just walk by.“ Trying to hide my ache, I sigh: ”Y
I was going to write about the capacity to be uncomfortable as a necessary skill. Well, as I am driving to Young's Market on the Arlington to quickly pick up some chicken thighs, chocolate and crackers, I turn on the radio and switch to the classical station – and there is Mozart’s Requiem. The “Lacrimosa,” achingly beautiful. (Lacrymosa dies illa, this sorrowful day). I find an easy parking spot, but I am nailed to my car seat, how could I possibly get out and leave this music. I decide that I have enough time to just sit here for another 30 minutes, listen and get still home in time for a friend’s visit. Eyes closed, immersed in memories and sound, I listen and swim in the ocean of chorus, orchestra, and soloists’ voices. Knowing the piece so well – I grew up with it – I can’t help but hum and sing along. I feel my late mother’s presence – me having switched the radio station – as if she is sending me this Mozart music just now. The tragedy, edginess, sublime sweetness and gr
Today I feel hopeful that we human beings might eventually evolve. Deep things are stirring in the human collective. A couple of good, honest, and penetrating conversations with two different friends in one day allow my heart’s imagination breathing space. And when Louise says: “We are not alone talking about this, I am sure others on this globe are having these conversations,” I know she is right. Could we evolve into a species that cares and shares, and is not imprisoned in the tight grip of endless greed and exclusion? Where the soul’s desire for plain simple goodness and generosity includes the Other and Stranger, the ones not from our tribe. Where compassion is not just a fashionable word but a daily hands-on practice. When I am by myself, or sometimes talking with friends, I can be very judgmental. I am easily exasperated by people who can’t think beyond their own skin, who can’t contemplate making sacrifices for the well being of the greater good and community. But when I s
Here is the front page of my Karinafilms brochure that I was writing about two days ago. I envisioned a fold-out brochure with a non-standard look, so I hand-drew the logo for it. My friend Lisa Greenstein – an artist & painter – designed the 8 panel brochure. She was responsive to my quirky ideas :) and the process was fun. Lisa did a beautiful job, and with much expertise took care of the printing process. Thank you, Lisa! Looking at it now again, I actually can detect similar elements in my design of the metal gate, so many years later...
My neighbors are Iranian, and I told them about my 2008 travels to Iran. How much I loved it, the Persian culture, people, food, the hospitality and conversations. Once in a while Ladan will bring me a Persian dish; I have brought birthday presents for her two girls. Today Ladan’s mother comes up the stairs, with the little one in her left arm and in the other hand a big container filled with a Persian rice dish she cooked. She calls out: "Ladan's mother!" I run to meet her mid-stairs to receive her gift. She is the best of cooks, and I often get to enjoy the fragrance of her cooking wafting out of their kitchen into my patio and making me so hungry :) Merci merci merci.... what a delicious lunch I am enjoying today! How often do we remember caring and sharing with strangers?
Fourteen years ago I wanted to weave together my 9 different documentary film projects – most of them took 3 - 4 years till completion – into one physical object that can be touched and experienced with its fold-out panels, colors, texture, and the sound of fingers gliding over paper. For the front page of this Karinafilms brochure, the following words came to me like a poem. When substituting the word cinematic , this could also describe my approach to teaching, writing, designing, to the garden, the mural, to life… “What wants to be known? What needs to be seen? Listening deeply, creating from inside out, Using cinematic language to let the invisible emerge: Po
Land Acknowledgment on Garage Memorial Mural Notice how Nicky steadies her right hand to sketch at the bottom of mural, lying on the steeply inclined driveway that leads up to the garage doors. We used black acrylic marker pens for these land dedication panels, and the hand needs to be steady with the markers who are more precise and less forgiving than the brushes, but also a bit faster. It was January and we were both lying on concrete. So the pens were a really good solution – Nicky's suggestion – and the look of the "penned" words also sets the dedication apart from the rest.
Ahmaud Marquez Arbery May 8, 1995 – Feb 23, 2020 26 year old Electrician, Glynn County, Georgia We so easily forget that the families have to live with the aftermath of injustices for generations! Please read the good news in update of the case in Washington Post article f rom September 2, 2021: https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2021/09/02/jackie-johnson-arbery-da-indictment/ A grand jury on Thursday indicted a former Georgia prosecutor over her handling of Ahmaud Arbery’s fatal shooting, on allegations she helped shield men now charged with murder in a case that went for months without arrests. ....Arbery’s mother, Wanda Cooper-Jones, said in an interview Thursday evening that she had “a happy moment for once” when Georgia Attorney General Chris Carr called to tell her about the indictment. “I do think that we will get justice,” she said. She said she has faith in the authorities now prosecuting the case but emphasized that the tragedy could have easily been b
Dropping the Ball In plain sight, the squirrel drops the ball – I mean the green apple – it had grabbed from my very old Golden Delicious apple tree in the back, some fifty yards away. The squealing voices of Nicky, Laura, and me – standing just ten feet away on the front stairs – scare and/or perhaps surprise the youngster as it skillfully scurries on top of the narrow uneven fence. The big, still unripe apple falls… I notice a split second of frustration and hesitation in the squirrel’s movement, a temptation to get down and fetch it again. It had schlepped it a long way. But by now we are laughing and howling even louder in three different octaves. Surprise, delight, amazement – amusement... And in my case, a bit of Schadenfreude. See, what happens when stealing green apples?! Hurriedly the squirrel scrambles away. And now, I feel just a tiny bit sorry for its mishap. I am so used to the sight of squirrels carrying unripe apples somewhere else, to hide or to nibble on and abandon
Crows and Learning We used to have a lot of seagulls and vultures here in the Berkeley hills, but now it’s crow-land. Crows, black and extremely intelligent, loud and rambunctious, patrolling, discussing, holding court, announcing, group chasing a hawk… and constantly problem solving…. fascinating... Just now, one of the neighborhood crows has landed on the wooden balcony railing, skillfully pecking at a big peanut to get to the nut. As if she is showing off, she gets to the treat quickly and elegantly using her beak and feet. Here for me to behold through the big window in from my living room. It is lunchtime: for me a slice of bread with chopped liver and pickles. The crow’s movements are precise and nimble, and when done she flies off across the street, leaving the empty shell on top of the railing. Where did she get this peanut? Crows’ alertness, skills, and constant willingness to adapt and invent are definitely awesome and inspiring. In the last two decades nature programs hav
My artist friend Laurie Polster sent me her newsletter a week ago, and I want to share her mural A Quilt of Many Colors, which she created with Debbie Koppman. It is beautiful, and in its colorfulness abstraction pretty much the opposite of the 641 Garage BLM Memorial Mural Project. Laurie and I go back to our theater days. At bottom about the artists' process. A Quilt of Many Colors Sister Thea Bowman Manor, 6400 San Pablo Avenue, Oakland, CA – April-June 2021 "Laurie Polster and Debbie Koppman had the great pleasure to work with a small group of residents at Sister Thea Bowman and Percy Adams Jr. Residences in April 2021, presenting workshops at the side by side affordable senior housing complexes to generate ideas and create symbols representing aspects of their community to incorporate into our mural design. We were impressed with their level of engagement and their willingness to offer us thoughts, images, and ideas which reflect something of their experiences living
Elijah McClain Feb 25, 1996 – Aug 24, 2019 23 year old Massage Therapist, played violin, Aurora, Denver Here is good news about the trial to find justice for Elijah McClain’s murder by police: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/01/us/elijah-mcclain-officers-charged-colorado.html “…Mr. McClain had been walking home from a convenience store when he was stopped by three Aurora police officers responding to a 911 call about a suspicious person. The officers tackled Mr. McClain and put him in a type of chokehold that restricts blood to the brain. Paramedics arriving at the scene then injected Mr. McClain with ketamine, a rapid-acting anesthetic commonly used during surgical procedures in both animals and humans. Mr. McClain was taken unconscious to the hospital and never recovered. He was taken off life support and died on Aug. 30, 2019. Mr. McClain was unarmed and had not been suspected of committing any crime. As officers used force to subdue him, Mr. McClain repeatedly apologized
A few days ago, on a mid-morning walk in the streets, I hear a sturdy voice calling after me: “Good posture!” I keep my rhythm walking. Half turning, now stepping backwards, I see a tall elderly lady, regal looking in her long crimson red house robe and a shock of white hair, brightly smiling at me from across the wide street. With great delight I smile back and without delay respond laughingly: “Thank you, “ rhythmically adding: “You too!“ letting my voice ring out loud. She is bending down to pick up her newspaper from her inclined garage entrance. I wave and turn my steps forward again. Being old myself, she is my senior, I marvel. It takes one with a good posture to recognize a good posture :) chuckling now, and grateful for this call & response encounter. With its rhythmic swing, it becomes part of the music of my day. Another morning I might meet her again, stop and ask about her secret. Aliveness does not depend on age. It is something we can ripen into ever more ex
Just made a new poster for my film Voices from Inside and the distributors New Day Films and Kanopy. 25 years ago, in the fall of 1996, this documentary premiered at the San Francisco International Film Festival. Voices from Inside grew out of my four years volunteering at a federal women's prison (1992–96), bringing theater & mind-body work into prison. Listening and learning all about American justice. Back then prison issues, and especially incarcerated women, were not in the media or on people's minds. And yet mass incarceration was already going on due to draconian laws. Surprisingly, it is an uplifting film – the incredible strength, honesty and aliveness of the women and their children on the outside, are inspiring and enlightening to audiences on the "outside." Have a look! "I found it beautifully made and very moving. It is so important for us on the outside to realize what 'treasures' are hidden away on the inside." — Susan Sarando
For many years now I have been talking in my teaching and writing about Seeing with the Heart’s Eyes This way of perceiving is more like listening, letting light, shadow, subtle energies of all kind, including sounds and vibrations, come to our senses, and directly into our heart. Here we can see what is invisible. It is an Art that needs be cultivated, remembered and practiced daily. As an artist or healer – when drawing from this ground – we become the bridge to other worlds. Thus connected to the source, we become true “seers” and visionaries. And responsibilities come with it. We are asked to be an instrument, clear and open, fine-tuned and played, like a bell or gong. This receptive mode – more yin in quality – can balance the often grasping habit of seeing surface and appearances which initiates in the brain immediate judging, categorizing, sorting out, excluding, etc. I experience seeing with the heart’s eyes like music. As inspiration and teacher for this, I have kept for
The Forces of Nature are bigger than us, I wrote about that in my Aug 23 entry. We humans are small, helpless and terrified, in the face of them. These forces are hitting huge parts of the country this week all at once. People are dying, being displaced – we are getting to experience huge disasters and devastation here in America. It’s happening close by, not just in India, Germany, China, Greece etc. And more will be on the way. Today Nicky and I shared how unsettled we have felt, how rattled, and we both exclaimed: Who needs Wars! Lets put all arms down, from now on we don’t have time for wars, so much needs to be done. Saving lives and people and animals, the trapped, the hungry, the old, the disabled, the babies, the sick, the homeless, the displaced, the stranger, the stranded, the drowning, the evacuated, the injured, the other…. We don’t have time anymore for wars. We need armies of helpers, protectors, caregivers… everyone could be allowed to do a year of community work, d
