NATURE

Fall 1985. Boulder. Driving down 9th street to Danelle Helander’s Friday afternoon technique class. I think I won’t be able to make it through class on the cigarette and coffee with milk I had for lunch. Eyes on road, left hand on wheel, right hand reaches to floor of...

The Architecture of Love

Every meeting                                                                                                is surely a                                                                                                            separation. *   After Trungpa Rinpoche...

The Good Vehical

My father taught me how to move with wind and water. He taught me to read the direction of the wind by turning my cheek, appreciate the lines of the sail and cleats and tiller. He said, watch out, you’re luffing. Luffing is when the sail is not taught; there is...

Customer Service

Diagonal Tire Alignment, owner, Steve answers the phone. He talks fast, words blur together, maybe speech impediment. I need to get my tires switched out, I say. From what to what? He says. From summer to winter.   Welcome to the Shit World, he says.   Does he know...

Jake and Chloe

First, the photo of Jake’s goofy, gentle face. Then I kept saying yes. Deb sent me pictures of Jake and Coffee sleeping together. If I can get them both to Colorado a friend could adopt Coffee. They arrived on the Equinox. We switched to Chloe, which means the first...

Benefit of a Doubt

At Pella Crossing there are extra police cars and rangers. There are dogs and horses, people walking, and fishing in waders. There’s a great blue heron standing fluffed with her neck tucked. A ranger says white powder was found on a trail. Does he mean scattered about...

The Suffering of Water

When I lived on Old Stage road, on morning walks I picked up the heaviest rock I could carry. I took a few steps then dropped it. Pick it up. Hold. Let go. Repeat. Sage, an Australian Shepard mix, had his version of the same game. ~ In 1993 at Jikoji Zen Center I...

Eclipse

The cicadas are going round in trees of our neighborhood. They stop when the rain comes. And stay silent after rain. Then crickets. A birdcall. A woman across the alley yells, Hey! Stop it! to her dog. ~ At the red light on Lashley and 119 a woman with an uneven gait...

Katharine Kaufman

She is a priest ordained in the Soto Zen Lineage and teaches meditation and Yoga in Boulder County and the Shambhala Centers. She is an adjunct professor at Naropa where she teaches Movement Arts. She holds MFAs in Dance and Writing/Poetics.