Tag: culture
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Friends
“Hey, you! Come play with me.” “I can’t see you, Can you see me?” “I see a blop. Is that you?” “I’m a blop. What form are you?” “I’m formless, but I’m dense. I’m all around you, Blop.” “I feel you, Dense. What can we play?” “Hide and seek?” Said Dense “You’re everywhere,” Said Blop, ... -
Illumination and Liberation
I meditate Letting go of aspirations, Letting in what is Under self-restricting views, Monitoring News. I’m slowly dissolving. Not quitting, not doubting, Attention to breathing Towards Present. In and out, in and out, On the way to Liberation. Neither this nor that – with you. Love what is, Immediate and fulfilling, But never take ... -
Ma Millie-3
Mildred is enjoying her newfound freedom after her divorce from Ray. She hits the dating scene and immediately falls in love again. The tall, handsome Gene Gephardt is amiable and ambitious. He dreams of building an upscale nightclub and restaurant on the outskirts of Granite City. The location? Not too far from St. Louis but ... -
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Ma Millie-2
Going to church every Sunday is another ritual Little Johnny enjoys. Grandpa and grandma are not regular church-goers. So, the neighbors offer to take Little Johnny to church with them every Sunday. The music and singing of hymns and songs enthrall Little Johnny. The two churches at the end of the street sit across from ... -
Ma Millie
“No, sir! No! No hanky-panky! I would have none of it! Married each one of them!” Thus proclaims Mildred Ruth Ralls, nursing her martini, her voice soft, firm, and reminiscent. Mildred and I are sitting at the kitchen table in the Naperville home. She has received a letter from her sister Elaine in California. Not ... -
A Handicap
I can’t record audiobooks in this country because of my heavy accent. When I audited for an organization I support, they said, “In America We employ American accents.” I said, “I’m an American. My accent is American,” but they wouldn’t hear me. I have such a lovely voice – Loud, Affirmative Expressive. ... -
Picking Up Her Broken Pieces
In a faraway land called Afghanistan, I hear her break his wine goblet, shattering the bowl to tiny bits. Bouncing, ricocheting off surfaces, broken pieces scatter to places unseen. He bellows, blames, name calls her. She screams back. Her voice, strong and bold echoes through the walls. Every crawling ant stops. He uses his hands ... -
Flying Kites and Dogfights – Part 2
Although our home is small, the rooms are sizable and airy, with twelve-foot ceilings. Clerestory windows above doors increase natural light and air circulation. A long open south-facing verandah runs the entire width of the building. Sudhir and I spend most of our mornings and evenings here in the open. Another staircase leads to an ...