Road trip!

Yesterday Rick and I drove north to Seattle to hear His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama speak at the Seeds of Compassion conference. Thanks to Barry Anderson for the tickets (thanks Barry!!). Even from our seats in the rafters of the Key Arena, when His Holiness walked across the stage to start the session, I burst into tears. It was the first time I have ever seen him in person, and I was so moved by his presence and his joy.

The focus of the conference session was about raising compassionate children. The result of which, if we succeed, will bring about world peace. So says the Dalai Lama. He undid his own boots and then pulled his feet up to sit lotus-style in his chair during the session. Listened with intent as each of the panel presenters were introduced with all their pomp and resume.

When asked to speak, he outlined in simple terms the practice of daily compassion and its far-reaching consequences. Ending very matter-of-fact with, "That's all."

I am pressed to put words together at this point. It opened up an unexpected awareness, and I am better off for the experience. I wondered at those panelists who got to share their stories and ask a question of His Holiness. What would be my question?

Ever amazed
Sherri

Poeticdiversity

Poeticdiversity: the litzine of Los Angeles has published my short-short "With the Surety of a Revelation" online in the April 2008 edition.

Marie Lecrivain, executive editor of poeticdiversity, quotes Wm Shakespeare:

"Once more, unto the breach, dear friends, once more. . ." - Henry V

April is National Poetry Month. Visit www.poeticdiversity.org and celebrate a poem.

Sherri

April

Ah, the cruelest month. I have lived and died and lived again in Aprils past. I am a true April Fool.

This year, March went out with snow and a hard frost on the daffodils. April must be in like a lamb - if the lamb had pneumonia and spent most nights of late coughing its lungs up. My darling husband actually suggested we try out the new medical coverage. ha.

When I was in high school, I contracted some kind of infection around my heart. I'm sure my dad and all my other doctor-siblings and sibs-in-law could easily provide a medical latinate for its infectious identity. I only recall that it felt as if I was stabbed from inside with every breath. For the duration of the infection, I bedded down in the reading nook of the basement family room where I could sleep sitting up. Sleep and weep and read. Never able to do just one, I read Tolstoy and Tolkien, Asimov, Heinlein, James Joyce, George Orwell and Thomas Hardy. A plethora of human suffering. Plethora - I've heard Chris Berman use it successfully on ESPN. Goes with "Whoop!"

My point? Long gone under the haze of Advil and Dextromethorphan HBr extended release.

The beauty of some down days as April opens up in all its glory is that I have started a new book(s). John Dos Passos, Sherwood Anderson, and Grace Paley. An April plethora.

Sherri