Thich Nhat Hanh

I’ve just learned that a great one has left this planet. Thich Nhat Hanh has “passed away” at the age of 95. What a loss for this world, and what a gain for him! So let’s not feel sorry for ourselves because this world has thus become poorer today, but celebrate that this amazing soul was finally able to put down an old, sick body and can now enjoy unlimited freedom. Today, more than ever, my favorite poem by him is appropriate.

I bow in awe before the greatness of this man and express with this post my overwhelming gratitude and infinite appreciation for all the love, purity and wisdom that he brought into this realm, and with which he made this world a far better place. Beings like him are extremely rare. Mankind does not deserve such guests, and yet he came by for a pretty long visit to help alleviate suffering.Thank you Thay! 🙏 I love you! 💖Now you can smile again!

“This body is not me.
I am not limited by this body.
I am life without boundaries.
I have never been born,
and I shall never die.
Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars,
manifestations from my wondrous true mind.
Since before time, I have been free.
Birth and death are only doors through which we pass,
sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide-and-seek.
So laugh with me,
hold my hand,
let us say good-bye,
say good-bye, to meet again soon.
We meet today.
We will meet again tomorrow.
We will meet at the source every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.”
~ Thich Nhat Hanh ❤


Simon Bartholomé
  Posted

Another—So Long

“Everybody else is working to change, persuade, tempt and control them. The best readers come to fiction to be free of all that noise.” Philip Roth, 1933-2018

PBSbooks

PBS Books

Philip Roth, Towering Novelist Who Explored Lust, Jewish Life and America, Dies at 85

Mr. Roth won almost all the major literary awards and published an exceptional sequence of historical novels in his 60s, an age when many writers are…NYTIMES.COM

And I have just included some of his many books to the pile for the Used Book Store. I know that it should not and does not matter, yet a bit of guilt nestles in. It’s a sad thing to bury our towering novelists, the ones in particular whose books we cut our literary eye teeth on.

Derek Walcott

LOVE AFTER LOVE

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,derekwalcott
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott—January 23, 1930—March 17, 2017