Author Archive

And the Skys Are Crying


The woods are crying
for they are bare and wet and cold.
Rain laps at the windows
as waves break on glass.
The last leaves fall
in this cataclysmic storm.
Relatives and friends hate
across a divide of evil
that each side sees
inside the other.
Fall is failing
as is our country.
We are in for a long
and harsh winter.

Hoping Against Hope

I just signed the petition, “Electoral College Electors: Electoral College Make Hillary Clinton President on December 19.”  She won the popular vote by 1,500,000 and they are still counting.

I think this is important. Will you sign it too?

 Thank you so much,

A Sign of Hope?

This is a whale in the Hudson River in New York  City on the upper west side.  A friend sent the photo to me, suggesting it might be a sign of hope since we are all so desperate here now that Trump is President Elect.  I don’t know the source.  Pray it survives the pollution and gets back to salt water.


Love Mentally Ill Style

This appeared as a feature in the “Modern Love” series in the New York Times.  It could be the story of my marriage, a marriage of two mentally ill people, though my husband is way higher functioning than I am.

Out of the Darkness — Modern Love


How Trump Showed Me I was Behind Bars

P1080675A letter to my dear friend…
Hi Anjali,
Don’t know how you are doing but I am out of control.  Tears and anger.  Never thought I was a feminist but now I feel like raging against the white male political establishment just as I  always raged against the white male medical establishment.  Trying not to take this out on Tom but he has treated me like a defective person at times, too.  A neighbor was raging against Trump today and I got all riled up again.  But he listened to Tom, not to me although I said the very same things. The more I think about this the more I think women are dumped on as much as, or perhaps even more so, than  blacks.  I am furious that the FBI investigator Comey got away with what he did though I think Hillary will make a case against him.  I am furious that no one listened to Obama.  That rural white women listened to their husbands and obeyed them.  I kept the word “obey” out of the marriage vows with Tom.  We wrote our own ceremony.  I am furious at my uncle asked me who I was voting for and furious at myself for telling him though I knew he was voting for Trump.  I am furious for him calling my candidate “crooked Hillary”.  I am furious that my friend John, with whom I thought shared the same values called the Clintons crooks, and that he, as a Columbia educated white male whom I helped through medical school, should be for the evil that is Trump.  I am furious that our male Latino super thinks he is playing me as a fool and treats me as a nice half wit.
  I am mad as hell!!  Sorry for the rant but I am a fool.  I didn’t know I was a feminist.  Now feminism is raging inside me.  Trump treated Hillary so badly.  It should be vindicated.  And instead it is cheered on by the red necks, the majority of white rural males.  Yes, even the police and the fire fighters, as courageous as they are, feed into the culture of male dominance.
Can you relate to any of this?  Are you feeling sad, mad, sick?
Excuse the very long rant.  I feel like I may explode.
Hope you are relaxing with John and not in the state I am in.

For some, our darkest hours…


Here is a letter to read and sign (if you are so inclined) on the election in the United States of Donald Trump.  I am in no state to write about this unthinkable outcome.  In grief and shock, anger and fear and in the minority, Ellen


Dear Mr. Trump,

This is not what greatness looks like.

The world rejects your fear, hate-mongering, and bigotry. We reject your support for torture, your calls for murdering civilians, and your general encouragement of violence. We reject your denigration of women, Muslims, Mexicans, and millions of others who don’t look like you, talk like you, or pray to the same god as you.

Facing your fear we choose compassion. Hearing your despair we choose hope. Seeing your ignorance we choose understanding.

As citizens of the world, we stand united against your brand of division.



Sometimes in the darkest moments the brightest lights shine. Let’s make Trump a force that brings the world together, to fight for everything we love.

With hope,

Ricken, Alice, Emma, Christoph and the whole Avaaz team

Avaaz is a 44-million-person global campaign network
that works to ensure that the views and values of the world’s people shape global decision-making. (“Avaaz” means “voice” or “song” in many languages.) Avaaz members live in every nation of the world; our team is spread across 18 countries on 6 continents and operates in 17 languages. Learn about some of Avaaz’s biggest campaigns here, or follow us on Facebook or Twitter.


My friend, Tiramit at Dhamma Footsteps, says it better than I ever could, so immersed in shock, fear and grief are we, obviously the minority here in the U.S….

dhamma footsteps

pigeons3bPOSTCARD #231: New Delhi: Trumpets blare, the sharp impact of it hits immediately, a cloud of birds fly up in a flutter of uncertainty. Trees splash outwards in branches, twigs, leaves, blossom and seed. Astonishment… how could this have happened? Eyes open wider and wider, like a camera aperture opening so far it exceeds structural integrity, implodes, buildings collapse in controlled demolition made to seem like a natural disaster, the ground beneath us opens up in sinkholes. Words explode into fragments of meaning… thus, the un-expect-ed-ness of this unnerving turn of events.

Curtains open on the First Act. Enter, stage right, the President of the Disunited States, Hollywood version of narcissistic Third World dictator, well-dressed gangster with his carefully balanced coiffure and infrastructure of war, catastrophe, greed, hatred and delusion – a victorious returning to power, with paid-for breathless wave of applause. Financial Advisors grab all the wealth stolen by…

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Death of Fear and the Beauty of Death

over fears
of what’s to come
Husband such a
precious soul…
Stay in the present
Enjoy every moment
of together
It is fleeting…

Bipolar mind
fight living
in the present


So unZen
Why can’t I
just be
like before
breakdown and
before medications


Why can’t I
be jolly with he
whom I worship

Why the constant
chatter of
loud thoughts
Would that I could
go with him
when it comes time

And if not
hope that I can
help with his
last breath
I want to
be the first
to go
quite selfishly
He who cared
for so many
deserves that I
care from me
for him
and more

Would that
each moment
were not filled
with looking
at Illness
Old age
and Death
and the fragility
Of having a body.


dhamma footsteps

createimageprop-aspxPOSTCARD #230: New Delhi: From somewhere deep in Antiquity (2nd-1st century BC) the Indo-Greek created a likeness of the Buddha saying, okay, this is who he was, and this is what he was like. Before that there was nothing; a stupa marked a place where he had been and what he had said there (supposedly), but no actual identity, no story of how it began, what the cause of it was – always the echo of ‘and what was the cause of that?’ (repeated endlessly) prevented the writer from saying, ‘it was something like this, you know?’ because, even before it begins, the story requires the listener to gently comply with the constraints of a starting point… “Once upon a time” (and this is as good a place to begin as any), so we fall into the story, become the story – we believe in the story because we are…

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Fall Teardrops