Questions of Silence

Pondering life's questions through poetry, photos, memoir, and more--from meditation and spirituality to protest and politics. No question is too personal, or maybe one. From a writer, book editor, and teacher who explores meditation and recovery and sensuality and strives to keep an open mind about things between. I would be honored to have you following!

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Yellowstone’s glory

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On the morning of the Chinese Lunar New Year of the Rabbit, as Yan’s family, including her mom, three sisters, their husbands, and their children gathered to celebrate in the family home, her mom went to rest in bed, and then died shortly after taking a video call from Yan, in what has become a winter of death for many families across China. Yan through her tears today remembered and honored her mom in this poem (translated from Chinese)

Walk away on snow

(Dedicated to my mother)

As beautiful as you are,

As proud as you are,

You are like a winter plum in stormy times,

A dazzling bloom.

When you were young,

You were so strong.

You trained hard and embraced important tasks.

In Qichang City where you grew up, everyone knew you:

The middle school and high school English and Chinese teacher.

The founder and leader of a troupe of young singers, dancers, and actors

who performed all over.

I remember long ago performing an Indian dance in your group.

The wife of a regional political leader, you were famous.

How many responsibilities did you have?

You raised four daughters and cultivated them arduously,

And in the eyes of others

They grew to be your beloved daughters,

Blossoming just like you, as beautiful flowers,

Becoming the proud words on your lips.

Many years passed, and in your twilight, you said,

“Now I want to have a good rest.”

But your reality turned against your good intentions.

Your strength waned; your body weakened.

You longed to see yourself as a strong woman,

For others to see you this way too.

But you could no longer do the things that made you proud.

Your later years passed like this.

You set your dreams for love and adventure aside and lived for your family.

Your heart remained calm and peaceful.

You laughed. You raised your daughters.

You smiled at your grandchildren, cared for them.

“My life is a little sad,” you said, “But I have no regrets.”

On New Year’s Eve of the Year of the Rabbit, 2023,

The winter snow arrived on schedule

And with it a relentless, merciless epidemic.

I anticipated your leaving.

Come on, follow me.

Walk away on snow

I must go now.

I’m looking forward to being myself in another world.

Behind your lonely back there remained a string of footprints in the snow.

In the vast starry sky

The brightest star is you.

Thou art the beautiful spirit and messenger.

You once said earthly, mortal love was tasteless,

But I want to say this:

We all love you dearly.

Maybe you don’t know

That no matter where you are,

In the past or the future,

Our deep love will always be with you.

If there is an afterlife,

I look forward to seeing you

Bloom like a rose,

Stand like a tree,

Fly like a butterfly.

If there is an afterlife

I want to be your daughter,

Or let me protect you instead!

I will find you, mama,

because I love you so much.

Your daughter, Yan Liang, January 22, 2023

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Esalen sunset at Big Sur

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Avocado dreams, by my young daughter…

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Esteli, in northern Nicaragua, during the time of the US-backed war against the Sandinistas in 1985. Here, a mother and her young children peer from the doorway of their home.

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The historic Barton schoolhouse on the campus of The Grove School in Redlands, California, at sunset on an autumn day.

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Redlands sunset on an autumn day in California

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For all the sorrow and all the joy, another Redlands sunrise.

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Denny’s and the windmill in Arcadia, California

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The lily in the meditation pond in Redlands, California.

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Stare-down at the meditation pond, and the bullfrog blinked.

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I love the view of the Pacific coastline from this rooftop hot springs pool at Esalen in Big Sur. I’ve spent hours and hours soaking alone under the stars and full moon and have seen dawn come, with squadrons of grey whales spouting just off the shoreline. Along the way, I’ve had amazing conversations in these waters with strangers as we rest our arms over the side and share sadnesses and joys in our lives.

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Esalen at Big Sur

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From Esalen at Big Sur, the wild Pacific seascape along the California coast.

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Emerging from the Esalen hot springs at 1 a.m. Alone soaking on the rooftop pool last night, I heard the deep cry of the sea, a sound far beyond the waves crashing on the rocks below. Something plaintive, ethereal out there, calling, warning, grieving, or maybe it was the collective prayer of the souls all living things, crying for our attention.

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Honduran military police at the Nicaraguan border, ready with gas masks and M-16s, blocking a couple hundred Central American marchers for peace from crossing the border into Honduras on the Pan American Highway north of Ocotil, circa 1987.

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Sandinista on leave from the front, home in Esteli in northern Nicaragua, circa 1986.