a journal of self-propelled dharma
I’ve taken a job managing 400+ teenage volunteers, for the Vancouver International Children’s Festival. It’s a six-month full-time gig, culminating with the Festival at the end of May. Holy cow! Or given that I have already begun to conceptualize these 400 latent teenager volunteers as mutant ninja turtles—cowabunga. Dude. I’ve never worked a full-time gig …
In describing Zen practice Robert Aitken said that the schedule is the spine of time. I am Time’s chiropractor. I bend and straighten the bones. They flex and spring back. Breath and blood flow through and around, bringing the structure to life. Time is my medium, as for dancers and singers. I build schedules to …
I have no kids, and no car to drive them around in. The things I am most grateful for are the things I did not choose. I got my drivers’ license at age 16 like many of my peers, and tooled around the burbs (dangerously!) in my dad’s massive Oldsmobile. But I lived in a …
I’m almost a biped again, yip yip! Six weeks to the day of my tumble I have graduated to listing along penguin-style, mostly without crutches. It’s a slow hop-along journey. The night I fell off my bike, with my pelvis busted in three places, I stretched. Without an accurate notion of what my injuries were …
I hit that evil banked curve on the uphill, headed home from Hollyhock on my final day of work with half my office stuffed into one overloaded pannier. Just one last hill from home I slid out on the loose gravel and went down hard. Result: pelvis broke in three places. Yeah, I know—stay outta …