Karinaland River

  We Are Here – I Am Here Here – Here – Here with Burning Love Devotedly HERE We affirm our existence by living consciously, not automatically. At best, we re-dedicate ourselves every day to Aliveness, Humanity, Earth. To Dignity, Beauty, Humility. Just as shells, seaweed, sand, water, and stones do. The above is a mantra for difficult and tumultuous times. I have practiced it with my students for years. We speak the words out aloud. Firmly – with intention. We commit to protecting life. Let your voice vibrate with lived truth. We need it. In these times, it is important to consciously counter the swirl of Armageddon ideas and vibes. Let your every step resonate with breath, from the core of your being, from earth. Walk with gravity, dignity, gravitas.  Every step devoted, simply alive. Your words emanating from heart and belly. I am here. I am present. This form of arriving comforts others. Do you feel your soles as your feet meet the ground? Each convincing step says HERE – ...

The Power of the Powerless   The forces of history are always bigger than us – we are at their mercy. What will be our fate? How will destiny unfold? What influences guide us? Can we be dedicated to Living in Truth?   Václav  Havel – Living in Truth In the Spring of 1968, my 14-year-old teenage attention is laser-focused on Czechoslovakia. The great Alexander Dubček is my hero. As secretary of the Communist Party, he puts the Prague Spring Reforms into place beginning of January that year. In West Germany and France much political turmoil and transformation is happening. Starting at 12 years old, I am devouring books by Albert Camus, Thomas Mann, Nellie Sachs, Heinrich Heine, Günther Grass , Hilde Domin, Hans Magnus Enzensberger, and many more. I read Czech writers, poets, and playwrights, like Václav Havel , Bohumil Hrabal, Pavel Kohout, etc.  Ours was a socialist family. Every night, we heatedly discuss sociological trends and political events at the dinner t...

  Our Common Smallness   The hawk circles high, nothing escapes his eyes. Big white and grey clouds are billowing in blue sky. Out of old habit, I enjoy paying attention to the “ordinary” beings around me, there is little pomposity to be found in their extra-ordinary splendor. Observing, asking questions, listening curiously, intuitively sensing how to best connect. This Thursday, I am happy to see the open round face of a young man coming up the stairs. Right away, I know we are going to have a good time. Despite my big problem that turns out to be very expensive, sigh – quickly we are at ease with each other. He expresses his admiration for the Memorial Mural on the garage doors, wants to take a picture of it, share. It moves him. Later I tell him more about honoring the people affected, whether dead or freed. The research it took to give each their tiny bit of personal story. A wall for mourning. Obviously, his heart is spacious and has a natural tendency toward justice. He...

  Defiant is the Word   keeps sneaking into my dreams like a girl with long thin sandy braids on her screw-on metal roller skates Twirling   slithers into my daily labor in the garden bare hands weed, dig, prune, tenderly treat those thorny things, noble thistles Laughing spending time memorizing new locations street names, turns, maps, when GPS seems bent on making us helpless, unable to survive Without   definitely using cash, rarely that plastic card robbing us in split seconds, keeping our fingers from sensing paper, deciding, counting, valuing Quietly all that is offered to us as convenient, as necessary easier, cheaper – tyranny of more – the price is high yet we follow, follow news, fashion, others, ads, fads Blind   costing us an arm and a leg, not taking time to muse speak and act for ourselves, it accumulates, the gladly mindless habits of copying – rusted, repeated same old Sentences defiant – needed quality to escape the slippery road down ...

Language as Vehicle and Vessel   Sunday late morning – still so much fog wafting, mystical and mysterious – engulfed in shades of grey. What will the future bring us? Where will it go? How will it look like? Unknown. Seeking anchor, I am reflecting on the last few days, my encounters with German and Jewish friends. All week, history has been visiting me, triggering vivid memories. Opening internal space, where I am free to roam. Vast time spans and continents interweave their landscapes as I am preparing my late breakfast. Come on a ride with me.   Surprisingly, I am in a really good mood. Splurging on a home-made espresso, a rare occasion these days. Getting out my old Bialetti stovetop Moka pot. The fresh coffee beans are called “Grounds for Innocence,” a blend by Bongo Roasting Company in Tennessee, created as a fundraiser for the Innocence Project . This organization has been fighting since 1992 to free the innocently incarcerated, prevent wrongful convictions, and reform ...

  Geborgenheit – Wordless Sitting on death row is the opposite of feeling  Geborgenheit , feeling safe.  Geborgenheit  is a beautiful German word, old-fashioned, with so many subtleties that it takes several words to convey its meaning. It can be translated as “in the arms of the Great Mother” or “deep feeling of security” – in a mother’s safe embrace. We all yearn for it, one way or the other. We all need it, feeling protected, comfort.  Geborgenheit  is a sensation in my soul that is wordless. It is a feeling of wholeness. I did not know it as a child. A few years ago, I started to taste it finally. I had to practice evoking Geborgenheit till it gradually began lodging itself viscerally into my being, deeply. Some of us, perhaps many, each for different reasons, might not know basic security and trust, and my heart goes out to all of us. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/30/opinion/deathy-penalty-texas.html   https://innocenceproject.org/petitions/jus...