Suppose earth itself can help make peace on earth, in your lifetime, starting right now – the end of violence – the end of the barbaric age.
Consider the oppressor.
Suppose our thoughts can help make peace on earth, in your lifetime, starting right now – the end of violence – the end of the barbaric age.
Consider the people being oppressed.
I picture them wandering now in a grove of trees, tall and pungent, with the ground moist and soft. I picture them happily stepping on stones to cross a brook, trickling, soothing.
I picture them walking thru an open meadow of tall grasses with a sun umbrella, sparrows appearing and disappearing.
There’s something about a very old photograph that really draws me in. Perhaps it’s the black and white monochrome world that looks oddly “at a distance” – as if that’s the best that could be done at that time – almost like a dream.
I like to see how people are dressed and I try to sense how it felt to be in that place at that time. Did the air feel different?
The advent of historically-themed movies and TV shows has given interest in history a tremendous boost. There are no significant historical events that have not been the subject of at least one movie. The drawback is that not every movie is historically accurate - Hollywood portrays versions of the facts that bring in the most profits, not necessarily those that are true to life.
Grandpa and grandma came to the USA when they were in their very early twenties.
They came with little money, so they had to rent a place to live. Grandpa was a wise man and a great observer.
In Italy he trained as a shoemaker, but here that job would not provide adequate income. So he found a factory job for steady income, but he also found wealthy clients who could pay richly for handmade shoes.
Grandpa marveled at the public transportation system. With one coin you could ride, then “transfer to anyplace you want to go.” He never spent money on owning a car.
This is John at Heart Speak. I am here with Matt Del Rosario. Matt, from the short I met you, you started talking about the future and the unknown and your perspective on the unknown. Could you please over that and share what your thoughts were on that?
I always felt like an outsider. I always felt I have been on the edge of life. I can participate in it, but for some reason, I catch myself needing space, needing to pull back, needing to feel myself away from others.
Could you explain what Flow Kakou means?
Absolutely. Flow Kakou is my non-profit, my 501c3. We’re based in Hawaii. The title Flow Kakou – I took the word “flow” from the Buddhist definition of balance. The presence of both yin and yang at the same moment.
“Kakou” in Hawaiian means “everything.” To the stars, to the sand, to the water, to the people, to the animals, to the grass, even to the little bugs that we hate – that’s all Kakou.
She stared at me with her oh so serious and piercing eyes, chin resting on her hand, and said in a most sincere voice: “I love talking to old people.”
There she was, one of a gaggle of elementary school girls at the first meeting of our new workshop, and these were the first words I heard out of her mouth.
Well, I responded, "I love talking to young people, so we’re going to have a great time together – sharing and learning from each other."
“Hi hon. How was golf?”
“I was lousy, as always.”
“But how did it feel?”
“It was fabulous being out in this gorgeous weather.”
Sound like a familiar conversation?
We often allow feelings of hopelessness to become our predominant emotion.
When Bruce and I were first married, we discovered Jones’ Family Farm, and started a tradition.
Each October we’d go to the farm and pick out a huge pumpkin. Then we’d bring it home, and work all weekend to make pies (usually 9) and loaves (usually 6).
Sometimes, we’d make pumpkin cookies or pumpkin pancakes (not a big hit). We’d cook the seeds. Then we’d distribute the pies to my parents and my brother Mike, Bruce’s parents, aunties, neighbors, etc.
I’d always bring some in for the teacher’s lounge at Second Hill Lane School.