Journey of the Heart

Ever since my second child was born, in 1978, I have been a doula, or a childbirth assistant... I have assisted at over four-dozen births, including nine of my eleven grandchildren. I delivered three of my four granddaughters myself, because the labor was faster than the midwife. I wrote this poem in 2006 while meditating on the cycle of birth, death, and reincarnation. Thoughts on the Births of Grandchildren Expectant mother dreams of child to be Strong, able, filled with fresh vitality. Birth is hard and when the child appears His cry brings great joy and chases fears. Creamed skin now sheds the water of birth As family and friends express great mirth Rejoice to see the daughter or son But what was lost, and what was won? The child has lost, we know, all he gained In former lives through struggle and pain Knowledge and skills and honor he won What do you have now, helpless grandson? Confusion, fear, and ignorance We know engulf hi...

I was stuck in Heathrow Airport for about nine hours after an eight-hour flight… Then there were the nine hours of being stuck in a plane on a frozen runway before that, and other flights before that. I was tired, sweaty, and altogether wondering if I would ever make it to my destination of Vrindavana, India, or if my luggage would. I did; it didn't. But, anyway, in the airport, waiting for my detoured flight to Thailand, I felt solace and happiness at watching the many passengers wearing varieties of religious clothing, just as I was. In that mood, I wrote this piece:   I Still Don’t Love You Everything in life, Lord, you direct Though not seeing you we quickly forget How you’re everywhere and in everything And all life’s situation happiness brings To one who never fails to see your grace The author pictured on right Evidence even in the filth of this place So many, Lord, try to come to you I see them around me—Muslim, Hindu a...