The deck to the Forge, looking out at a beautiful banner made by my friend Ti/Cat
To counter the blues
I turn on the news --
Some folks have it much worse than I
Why turn to vermouth
When you can get truth
All covered with soundbits and lies?
The Forge's tiny desk works for journals, paper, laptop... and it wheels to the deck outside, the window view, or a blank white wall
Doggerel? Well, maybe, but that reminds me 'caterel'-- of our cat, Gertie Girl, who passed on last September. I miss her. I keep thinking I see her out of the corner of my eye. She provided a grounding for most of the time I’ve lived in this house – 18 years now.
Gertie Girl, who with her brother, Bert (aka Betty) Boy, watched over Soundcliff for nearly 18 years -- even during a remodel that demolished most of the house
The house looks pretty darn good on a spring morning like this, especially after we’ve had multiple instances of SNOW the past four days! (None of it stuck, but it’s been damn cold.) The clear blue sky only lasted a few hours, then clouds rolled in, and by afternoon it was raining that misty northwest rain that sometimes goes on for days.
April is the cruelest month? This year, it’s been pretty cruel, weather-wise. But there’s always another morning -- a sun salutation on the deck, coffee and meditation in the Forge, a chance, on some level, to start over.
It doesn't get much better than Soundcliff on a spring morning-- Happy Earth Day!
Practicing presence: The Dalai Lama listens intently, asks good questions, radiates love. P-I photo by Dan DeLong
This weekend Seattle hosted not only the Lost Angeles Angels baseball team (a mixed bag for those Mariners) but the Green Festival and – most auspicious – the Dalai Lama, a model for new leadership in our time.
On Friday I joined thousands of others at one of many events in which the Dalai Lama has enthusiastically participated -- part of a project called Seeds of Compassion.
My first response to the event I attended: profound disappointment in our lack of ability (or will) to engage with each other. Here were tens of thousands of intelligent, caring people in a sports arena. There to learn about compassion from a man who practices it beautifully. (Indeed, just being in the same space with him is a treat and a privilege.)
But despite one question from a speaker asking us to “think about what you can do” to foster compassion, there were NO opportunities for dialogue with each other. No “turn to the person next to you and tell about how compassion has played a role in your life,” or anything like that. It felt like a waste of potential learning and energy.
Plus, with the panel of mostly white experts on children, families and compassion, we and the Dalai Lama spent a good 20 minutes of the two-hour session looking together at videos of the panelists, made to bring alive what they do. It didn’t seem like the best use of our time. (Though I’m sure it makes good television – and the sessions are available to the world for viewing.)
The other sad part was that some of Seattle’s best facilitators and spiritual practitioners were waiting on Sunday afternoon to work with small groups to go deeper into the subject of compassion – but very few people showed up. The main reason: These sessions were not mentioned at the large events!
You can see some good, dynamic coverage of the Dalai Lama’s visit at the Seattle Times website. And you can read in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer about his amazing press conference. Talk about transparency! This guy lights up the room.
How many spiritual teachers do you know who basically say, “Don’t believe anything you hear until you test it for yourself. Analyze!”
When asked a question, he'd often give an eloquent answer and then say, "I don't know. What do you think?"
At a recent Breakfast Club session in Seattle, topics ranged from polyamory to the end of the world (as we know it)
Despite my being a futurist, traditions are important to me. As long as they’re useful.
One useful tradition is a periodic Breakfast Club -- which has been meeting in various Seattle locations since the early 1990’s. A group of us, who probably wouldn’t otherwise see each other, get together to gab about things that are important to us -- personally, professionally, globally, spiritually.
These check-ins have come to mean a lot. Sometimes we have a theme, such as ‘what are your wishes for the new year’ or ‘what’s the flame that’s burning inside you’? Other times, we just see what happens.
The point is to connect with each other about 10 times a year with the intention of connecting our inner lives with the outer. We’ve shared triumphs and tribulations, celebrated anniversaries and milestones, mourned passings. We’ve linked each other with needed resources – most recently a network of cancer care professionals. Another member has found potential interviewees for a documentary film on polyamory.
And our group’s not ingrown. We often host guests, and invite new members. The format’s simple: each person gets an opportunity to ‘check in’ with whatever’s up for them, both inside and in the world.
At a Breakfast Club session in 2003, we had two out-of-town guests--my mother Helen, and Sophia Bracy Harris, an early childhood advocate from Alabama and mentor to Andrea Rabinowitz (r)
Each month we weave a tapestry of insight, humor, reality, love. It’s a good tradition.
My brother Mark, mother Helen and I spent a glorious Easter weekend together in Florida
Spring is in the air!
And my brother Mark and I visited our mother, Helen Silha, in Florida while it snowed and sleeted where we live (he in Minnesota, I near Seattle).
Even though my partner Gordon Barnett chose to stay home to work on creating new bells, Helen asked me to bring a bunch of his bells so she could show them to her friends and neighbors. It's become a tradition to have a spring "bell showing" at her condo on Longboat Key, near Sarasota on the west coast of Florida.
This year I brought quite a few of Gordon's 200+ designs, cast in silver ... 
Mark enjoys the people as much as the bells -- as he checks out the sterling silver bells on the dining table
... gold ...
Helen oogles the 14K gold bells on the sideboard above her TV, an original piece of furniture from the 1980's when the condo was built
... and bronze.
Despite a very rainy day, the light was best on the lanai, where I checked out the bronze bells
We enjoyed a great Easter dinner of ham, sweet potatoes, asparagus, and key lime pie with Helen's church friends Dottie and Gladys, and then Mark and I headed to the beach.
Dottie, Helen and Gladys hung out at the condo while Mark and I swam in the Gulf of Mexico
Mark loves to swim in the ocean, and so do I. We didn't get in as much as we would have liked -- but we did take a glorious Easter dip, and as Mark says, "next year!"
Mark contemplates a sand-sculpture sphinx before jumping in the surf (or is that really Elvis?)
We also had a great time at the Selby Gardens in Sarasota, amazed at the orchids, bromeliads, and Buddhas.
Koi ponds, tropical gardens, and great views of Sarasota Bay made it a great place for Mark and me to climb trees and clown around
And since I was born on Easter weekend in 1950, it was great to spend Easter with Helen. Actually, any time with Helen is golden.
One of the 6,000 orchids at Marie Selby Botanical Garden in Sarasota -- don't ask me the name!
The stunning view from Rob and Patti's farmhouse on 100 acres among vineyards in the Lot River valley
Rob, Gordon and Patti check out brussel sprouts at a local market -- which Patti makes into an elegant dish for dinner
And fantastic it was. Here’s what I wrote while there (and meant to post to the blog, but I got so delightedly lethargic, it never happened):
Patti and I enjoy conversation and coffee at a restaurant where most others are eating Beef Bourgignon
Wombat mugs (sort of) in front of a dog fountain in Cahors, the nearest 'big town' to where the Beebes live
It seems about as far from Paris as you can get. The Lot River valley. A river that squiggles through oak forests and vineyards. The wine is dark and earthy.
Wombat never tires of playing ball -- and we never tire of taking walks
It’s a great place to decompress from recent busyness. The landscape is conducive to quiet meditations. Daffodils, peach trees and forsythia are in bloom.
The weather, however, is not much different from that in Seattle. So it makes the dream of living in the South of France a bit less compelling. Still…
Being here conjures up memories of romantic times in Southern France when I was in my 20’s – making onion soup and munching hard-crusted soft-eggy bread, at a time when it seemed anything was possible. Being joined by my first partner, and exploring the mysteries of ecstatic talks punctuated by soul kissing. Taking walks among cows and getting lost. Being amazed that people shut their shutters each night, sealing their houses from light. (This still happens!)
Gordon and Catie upon their reunion in Limoges. She took us out for coffee -- and wouldn't let us pay ("You were invited!" .. very European)
Then we took a two-hour train ride to Limoges, where our friend Catie (Gordon’s high school prom date when she was an exchange student in Colby, Kansas) and her partner Jacques live in ancient houses across the street (route de la Coulees Vertes) from each other. It makes such a difference when you visit friends while traveling! 
Catie lives in an ancient Auberge (restaurant) built in 1742...
... and Jacques lives in this fabulous house across the street, which was a ruin when we visited them in 2001!
We continued our decompression with them in Montrol Senard, a town so small (pop. 230) it doesn’t appear on any maps I’ve seen. Both Catie and Jacques cooked for us, and we took walks and jogs and soaked in wonderful scenery.
Jacques presented Gordon with a French knife (oops... don't tell Homeland Security!)
Jacques topped off a luscious salmon dinner with bananas flambee -- which touched my heart and stomach
The South of France continues to be a wonderful fantasy – and reality!
The view from Catie's kitchen is charming -- I dream of summer barbeques in the back yard (which we experienced on our first visit in 2001)
I can't resist some of the world's best coffee amidst some of the world's best people-watching
And we did last Sunday – a sunny Sunday at that. Our first in France since 2001. Parisians, usually relaxed, are even more so on Sundays. They slowly take in the sights. They stare into each other's eyes. They love being alive.
Lots of Parisians get around on the new "velibes," municipal bicycles anyone can use for a small fee at any time anywhere
Gordon and I had arrived early in the morning after a long plane journey via Toronto. Our luggage didn’t make it, so we were pleasantly free to move without burden (for 1.5 days, until the bags were finally delivered to the hotel, just before we were about to leave!). After groggily negotiating the train from Charles DeGaulle Airport into the city (Place de la Bastille), we discovered our hotel room wouldn’t be ready until noon. So we ventured out on Rue St. Antoine for a morning constitutional.
We walked through the nearby Place des Vosges, one of the world’s great urban squares, and found our way to a restaurant where we had delicious coffee, ham omelettes, juice and toast. I won’t tell you how much it cost – let’s just say the Euro costs $1.60+ and things in Paris are already expensive. Gulp.
Still, you could immediately feel the Sunday Paris vibe – people feeling totally present, taking in the sunshine (even though it was cold outside). Some were sitting outside under sunlamps at cafes, so they could smoke. (The no-smoking-inside law just took effect here very recently.) Birds were singing. People were staring at each other – or into the blue sky above, or at the amazing architecture, or the budding trees. Discussing art, nature, philosophy. We breathed a sigh of wow – so good to be here.
Once in our hotel, we were able to take the Nancy Reagan cure for jet-lag: a long, hot bath (accompanied by drinking lots of water). It was tempting to take a nap, but the experts say you should force yourself to get on the new time schedule (9 hours different from Seattle) by staying awake until evening. We were glad we did.
Some sort of roller-marathon got thousands of people rockin' and rollin'
As we walked out into the sunny afternoon, we encountered an amazing demonstration – roller heaven! There were hundreds – no, thousands – of roller bladders and roller skaters speeding, sauntering, rolling along the Rue St. Antoine toward the Rue de Rivoli. What a parade of humanity – all ages, sizes, colors – all joyous and sprouting like the shoots of spring coming out of the ground.
We passed a free public toilet – imagine that! – along the way and wondered why facilities are so few and far between in the States.
Expansive public spaces incorporate such amenities as free toilets... ah, there's a line!
We walked by pastry shops and marveled at the sweet works of art.
OK, Neil, you'll have to fill in the blanks here-- what are we looking at?
And there was even a tanning salon. No, thanks, we’re enjoying the natural rays.
Many Paris buildings have incorporated older ceramics and architectural elements into whatever new enterprises are there
In the Metro station, a string ensemble played music that you’d pay to hear in music halls around the States.
It sounds better than it looks -- Vivaldi, anyone?
Pagan meets Christian meets mythological tour-de-force...the Cluny has it all! (Watch out for that unicorn)
Then we wandered around and had another cup of coffee.
Gordon is often tense until he gets to the destination...then it's as though he's always been here!
Eventually, we made our way to dinner at Le Petit Prince de Paris, a fabulous restaurant (recommended by our friend Susan Clampitt) which welcomed us like long lost friends even though we had never been there before. The food was one delight after another – a flan made with zucchini and scallops, salad with smoked duck breast and foie gras (sorry, Chicago!), monkfish with carrots and a potato-turnip puree, lamb with fried beets and carrot curry, a scalloped-potato pie (compliments of the house), and espresso with chocolate and almond (which did not keep us awake).
OK, this is why we are here. And the people, despite all the publicity, are very friendly. It helps to at least try to speak French. But a surprising number speak English, too.
Ah, civilization!
We're always looking up in this amazing city... but then you may miss some great street life!
Youth fishbowl discussion is focus of Youth-Adult Dialogue. Stones in center bowl represent memory & intentions for the future
The dialogues were initiated in 2004 by the Vashon Youth Council after the strangling death of 17-year-old Sharna Jones by her father, who later killed himself. “Enough,” said the teens at the Youth Council who had witnessed a similar dialogue on Whidbey Island facilitated by my friends from the Power of Hope. “We’ve got to improve communication between generations on this Island.”
And I think we’ve made a great start. Topics have ranged from drugs & alcohol, safe ways to mark endings and transitions, and gender stereotypes to finding right livelihood and this year’s theme of shifting the culture of fear. Both kids and adults have reported being able to talk about previously taboo topics as a result of these community conversations.
At this month’s dialogue, over dinner, intergenerational groups discussed two questions: What do you see as the biggest challenges of the future? What are your strategies for addressing them?
Then youth and adult facilitators had us stand on either side of a line that represented various divides or challenges in life – youth on one side, adults on the other. Then various challenges identified by the table discussions were read out – global warming, political divisiveness, racism, economic meltdowns, getting into the college of choice – and people were asked to “cross the line” if they saw this as a significant challenge.
Then we formed a large circle, where storyteller and mythologist Michael Meade drummed and invited us to sing before he told an Asian story, “The Tiger’s Whisker,” about a woman facing her biggest challenge, and the patient simple ways she dealt with it. Halfway through the story, Michael stopped and asked us to find someone from another generation with whom to discuss our own fears. Those pairs then got together with others to identify common themes.
Out of those conversations came some general questions and insights: Why do adults view young people with suspicion and vice versa? Are there commonalities between adults facing death and youth facing economic and personal relationship issues? What slow steps can each of us take to face our demons, personally and collectively? The second half of Meade’s story echoed a number of themes we discussed.
A centerpiece of these dialogues is always a “youth fishbowl,” where the youth talk among themselves in the middle of a circle and adults just listen. Then we open the dialogue up for anybody to talk, and ask people to reflect on how this communication might change the way we relate to each other in the future.
For a youth perspective on this dialogue, check out Sierra Saunders’ article in the Vashon High School newspaper, The Riptide. And look at this video made by the talented 23-year-old Freddy Rhoads.
The deck to the Forge, looking out at a beautiful banner made by my friend Ti/Cat
The Forge's tiny desk works for journals, paper, laptop... and it wheels to the deck outside, the window view, or a blank white wall
Gertie Girl, who with her brother, Bert (aka Betty) Boy, watched over Soundcliff for nearly 18 years -- even during a remodel that demolished most of the house
It doesn't get much better than Soundcliff on a spring morning-- Happy Earth Day!
