Bereavement

A Path to Your Own Treasure

These writings and films open a window onto my personal journey on death. My hope is that by glimpsing through it you will find a blessing, and perhaps, a path to your own treasure.

José Soliquez and the Gold Coin

Jose heard the soft call of the night bird, mournful and low. “It is a sign.” Jose thought, so he was not afraid when he opened the door.

José Soliquez ea moeda de ouro

Lá fora, José ouviu p canto suave do pássaro da noite, triste e baixa. “É um sinal.” José pensou, e ainda assim ele não estava com medo quando abriu a porta.

When the Oak Tree Falls ~ A Death Wish

Like a tall oak that finally lost its powerful clutch of the earth and slumped to the forest floor during the night, or a grandfather clock that had not been wound and gave its last declaration at midnight, the man was gone.

Death & Dying

A Path to Your Own Treasure

These writings and films open a window onto my personal journey on death. My hope is that by glimpsing through it you will find a blessing, and perhaps, a path to your own treasure.

I Lived Over a Pig Sty, and What It Taught Me About War

There is a cost to war, measured in human life, and the victors possess the determination, perspective, and resolve to pay that cost for as long as it takes to win. We can, as humans, hold in one hand the horror, regret, and sadness that comes with the loss of life, while holding in the other the numb resolve to carry on.

The Last Resort

Why not let someone who is about to die do whatever the hell they want to? You want to hear Guns & Roses as you drift off, or the voices of your children? We make it happen. You want a bourbon with your last breakfast? We do that too. Make it a double. Why not? Really.

O Cool Electric Blue

Music by the artist Jaspertine using my poem “O Cool Electric Blue” about the atomic bomb dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima by the US at 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945.

José Soliquez and the Gold Coin

Jose heard the soft call of the night bird, mournful and low. “It is a sign.” Jose thought, so he was not afraid when he opened the door.

José Soliquez ea moeda de ouro

Lá fora, José ouviu p canto suave do pássaro da noite, triste e baixa. “É um sinal.” José pensou, e ainda assim ele não estava com medo quando abriu a porta.

The Tailgater

I lay restlessly in a shallow grave awaiting the Day of the Dead, when my soul will rise to join a tide of others seeking a warm brush with the land of the living ~ one embrace, one more wish for a good trip, one last kiss good-bye.

When the Oak Tree Falls ~ A Death Wish

Like a tall oak that finally lost its powerful clutch of the earth and slumped to the forest floor during the night, or a grandfather clock that had not been wound and gave its last declaration at midnight, the man was gone.

Life After Death

Matters for the Heart

A Review of “Being Mortal” by Dr. Atul Gawande

If you care for a senior, if you care about health care costs, if you care for people, then take the time to read this book. There it all is, beautifully written, laid out in plain language, the answer to so many of the problems that vex us.

The Third Step of Krishna and the 4% Universe

The known universe…every star, every galaxy, every black hole, is just a marginal part of existence. The vast majority (96%) can be neither seen nor detected. Krishna’s “abode of the gods.” Are we there “now”?

A Path to Your Own Treasure

These writings and films open a window onto my personal journey on death. My hope is that by glimpsing through it you will find a blessing, and perhaps, a path to your own treasure.

What I Nearly Forgot

There are some who, like Ophelia, fall into water and drown, their pale hands frantically waving inches below the glassy surface, as if to grasp the bright world beyond and pull it down around them. Those who breathe air and not water pass by and look, but cannot see what lies beneath.

I Lived Over a Pig Sty, and What It Taught Me About War

There is a cost to war, measured in human life, and the victors possess the determination, perspective, and resolve to pay that cost for as long as it takes to win. We can, as humans, hold in one hand the horror, regret, and sadness that comes with the loss of life, while holding in the other the numb resolve to carry on.

How to Become Nearly Superhuman

Life. Taste it on your tongue. Harness the power of every moment. Feel every snowflake. Live with a vengeance, and you too will become…nearly superhuman.

Let’s Have Some Fun!

Imagine how powerful it would be for someone in their last hours to hear an old familiar voice leaving a message of love, kindness, or remembrance. That is what I hope to make possible with this technology.

O Cool Electric Blue

Music by the artist Jaspertine using my poem “O Cool Electric Blue” about the atomic bomb dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima by the US at 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945.

The Intuitive Perception of Hidden Things: What Unsung Heroes Teach Us

What does it mean to be really valuable to others? Does it mean creating something that has immediate market appeal? Is the measure of our value when we are lauded by our contemporaries and peers? If yes, then all of the unsung heroes whose remarkable ideas made modern life possible are abject failures.

Trump and the Pump: What I Learned About Fear

While I was in South America, people asked me about Donald Trump. “We don’t understand,” they would say frantically. “Why are the American people interested in this madman? How can you explain it to us in a way that makes sense?”

José Soliquez and the Gold Coin

Jose heard the soft call of the night bird, mournful and low. “It is a sign.” Jose thought, so he was not afraid when he opened the door.

José Soliquez ea moeda de ouro

Lá fora, José ouviu p canto suave do pássaro da noite, triste e baixa. “É um sinal.” José pensou, e ainda assim ele não estava com medo quando abriu a porta.

The Tailgater

I lay restlessly in a shallow grave awaiting the Day of the Dead, when my soul will rise to join a tide of others seeking a warm brush with the land of the living ~ one embrace, one more wish for a good trip, one last kiss good-bye.

Mother and the Mosh Pit

Like migratory birds responding to an archetypal memory telling them where to go, young men respond, drawn to the mosh pit and the opportunity it offers to work out their emerging warrior energy.

Are Women (Spiritually) Superior to Men? A Dissenting View!

This is my response to Robert Kopecky's excellent essay "Are Women (Spiritually) Superior To Men? A Call To Action!" which I recommend you read first. First, let me thank Mr. Kopecky for courageously addressing a delicate question. I admire how you answered. My words...

When the Oak Tree Falls ~ A Death Wish

Like a tall oak that finally lost its powerful clutch of the earth and slumped to the forest floor during the night, or a grandfather clock that had not been wound and gave its last declaration at midnight, the man was gone.

Why I Dig This Guy (the circled one)

My favorite guy in the Bible is this guy ~ the one to whom the crucified Jesus said, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise." Jesus' promise, as you may recall, was made after the man said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."...

Attack of the Clams

In some freakish explosion of accelerated evolution borne in a cauldron of sea water, fire, and Old Bay seasoning, the clams had not only sprouted eyes but crude, crab-like legs, enabling them to scurry out of the fire and into the nooks and crannies of the campsite.

The Luminosity of Darkness and Wonder: Part Two

American evangelicals replaced the pale, weak, skinny, crucified Jesus of mid-evil Catholics with their own distorted image ~ a strapping, Hollywood handsome Jesus in clean blue robes holding a snowy lamb ~ a poster boy for their pro-war, middle class, capitalist, Western values. A kept man. A poser. Both images are lies.

Dirt

A crucified rodent. A baseball game. Exotic laughter on a cool spring evening, and the power of dirt. We bury our dead in it, and we grow food from it. Dirt is magic.

The Mystery of the Coffee Grinds

We are like trees. Our roots go deep and are hidden. Our branches spread wide to the heavens and sway and grow, never the same today as they were yesterday. Who can perceive the whole of us? Every leaf is a story that makes us who we are.

Memorials and Memories

O Cool Electric Blue

Music by the artist Jaspertine using my poem “O Cool Electric Blue” about the atomic bomb dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima by the US at 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945.

The Intuitive Perception of Hidden Things: What Unsung Heroes Teach Us

What does it mean to be really valuable to others? Does it mean creating something that has immediate market appeal? Is the measure of our value when we are lauded by our contemporaries and peers? If yes, then all of the unsung heroes whose remarkable ideas made modern life possible are abject failures.

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