Mindful Creativity

As part of Tibet Week at Emory, we engaged in a "creativity conversation" roundtable with Tenzin Norbu (master Thankga painter) and Dolmakyap Zorgey (Managing Director from Norbulingka Institute).

I met Dolmakyap (DK) while staying at the World Buddhist Centre in Delhi last December.

We must have had lovely karma to be able to meet up again so soon on the other side of the world.

Fundamental Sounds

"Sometimes it's necessary to go a long distance out of the way in order to come back a short distance correctly." So states Jerry in Edward Albee's The Zoo Story.

The celebration of the publication of the letters of Samuel Beckett proceeded from Dublin to Atlanta, culminating in a reading of of the letters and a "creativity conversation" between me and Edward Albee. This conversation, along with others in the series are available through iTunes U on the Creativity and Arts website at Emory University.

Quick Trips

In addition to other journeys, I've been able to make a few quick trips to Florida to see my family. I'm looking forward to going again soon (after Italy!) for my 40th high school reunion, which should be revealing--and maybe even fun, now that we are all, chronologically at least, fully grown up.

We get by . . .

. . . . with a little help from our friends--and family.

Ron's 60th birthday came and went, with a series of small celebrations and lots of good wishes.

50,000 Miles

I've added up my travel over the past year, according to my Skymiles account: nearly 50,000 miles. Earlier on this blog, I took a poll on which place I should go: Ireland, India, or Italy.

Well, the I's did indeed have it: by the end of April, I will have gone to all three, not to mention a trip to Berlin and a few other highlights along the way.

I'm more of a homebody than a traveler. "There is no frigate like a book," according to Emily Dickinson, "to take us lands away." I'd just as soon read a good book as do anything else in life. But I must say, the richness of the travels--with family, friends, artists, and colleagues--has transported me to a new place in life.

Finally, of course, it's always good to go back to the place you started--as I did last month to Isle of Hope (another "I" place), where I was born and where my mother grew up. We inspected the little cottage under renovation--and then visited Storycorps, one of my lifetime aspirations.

Storytelling and listening are, indeed, acts of love.

Enigma Variations

Trying to make sense of it all--with a little help from our friends, Daniel Barenboim and Edward Elgar. The "enigmas" were each dedicated to "my friends pictured within," providing affectionate portrayals of those whom Elgar loved.

Snowy March

Snow blankets the ground. Perhaps it will cover the gaps and blemishes that characterize these times: Of trust lost. Of fortunes declining. Of values . . . . deteriorating. Or not. Who can tell? Certainly not me. I do have instincts. They seem to be counter to prevailing wisdom.

Clearly, the measures we have used to assess the world are changing. Business-speak and dollars no longer are the proper means of evaluation.

The poem, "What I Believe" by Michael Blumenthal, was featured yesterday on The Writer's Almanac. It contains many strong images and even ideas. But for some reason I was struck by this statement, about halfway through the poem:

I believe in destiny.

And I believe in free will.

How can we hold both of these beliefs at the same time? How can we not? It's really the sole path available to us: the path that is completely unknown. The one where we have a destiny only discovered through the exercise of free will.

Perhaps we all need to stop to listen to the third movement of Olivier Messiaen's work "Des Canyons aux Etoiles" ("From the Canyons to the Stars") and learn what we can about both the drift and intention of nature through "Ce Qui Est Ecrit sur les Etoiles" ("What is Written in the Stars").

I believe that the pure falling snow will, in just a short time, turn to slush. And that out of the slush will, in a new time, come emergent spring buds: frail and finite and full of life.

It is written in the stars.

This I believe.