Years ago my Vipassana meditation teacher read us a fable about a dying monastery. The villagers no longer visited the sanctuary, and the monks quarreled among themselves. The brick walls of the monastery crumbled from years of neglect. The monks hired a...
In my early twenties I lived at the Findhorn Foundation, an educational center in the north of Scotland. Each December community members gathered to place their names in a hat for a game of “Angels and Mortals.” We each secretly drew one name from the hat, and that...
Years ago I met a man on a blind date in a café in Portland, Oregon. The Bread and Ink Café was crowded that morning with many couples sitting face-to-face in the misty morning light, ordering omelets or lox and bagels. I sipped hot water with lemon and flipped the...
