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Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste. The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.

juillet 2012

L’heure bleue

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:15+00:00 juillet 4th, 2012|Textes|

Stopping in for a visit here. What a marvelous night it is, summer thriving! It's the end of what the French call "l'heure bleue," that curious hour between sunset and the dark spread of night. So luscious! I say I'd like to have it this way all the time, but then of course if I [...]

juin 2012

Summer 2012

By | 2015-10-08T17:33:48+00:00 juin 30th, 2012|La pratique Zen|

Please note the Wild Flower summer schedule: Final weekly meditation Monday July 16 Retreat in Portugal: July 28- Aug. 4 info/registration: wildflower.pt@gmail.com Retreat in France: Aug. 25-Sept. 1 info/registration: info@wildflowerzen.org Meditation starts again Monday Sept. 10 and Friday Sept. 16

Nice to be here (in the « normal » place)

By | 2015-10-02T15:37:41+00:00 juin 24th, 2012|Textes|

Returning home here after all my travels, across the Atlantic and into America... The trip included family time in two cities and wanderings around New York, as well as a lovely Bloomsday workshop at the Village Zendo. I'm the richer for it all in a thousand ways. My world was unfixed during those days, as [...]

mai 2012

City alive

By | 2015-10-02T15:38:00+00:00 mai 29th, 2012|Textes|

The city's alive with its secrets under the cobblestones and in back courtyards, down side streets and basking on café terraces along wide boulevards bathed in delicious late-spring sun. At my desk, birdsong drifts in the window. So does the grind and screech of the trash men making their morning rounds. In the back of [...]

(Maybe) I’m amazed

By | 2015-10-02T15:38:52+00:00 mai 23rd, 2012|Textes|

So much "happening" these days, and every "thing" throughout the day seems to be "unexpected." I never know what I will find in my "inbox" - in the computer, on the phone, on my plate, on the Métro, around the corner, in the next room, the next minute, under my foot, in my hand... I'm [...]

Point the way?

By | 2015-10-02T15:39:05+00:00 mai 13th, 2012|Textes|

Evening. A bird sings in the tree outside my window. One word for such a moment might be "sweet." But the word is not the moment. A poem I quoted yesterday: A man pulling radishes points the way with a radish. How do you point the way?

Change is now

By | 2015-10-02T15:39:20+00:00 mai 7th, 2012|Textes|

After all this, it finally happens: Change is now, as the new French president's campaign slogan said. In France, we have a feeling of relief today, of a return to "normal" after five years of some sort of collective insanity when everything was about "appearance" rather than about things as they truly are, plain and [...]

Zero

By | 2015-10-02T15:39:29+00:00 mai 1st, 2012|Textes|

A new month. The sky cleared and sun flooded the garden all day. Love it. All dark out there now. Love it, too. Meanwhile, caught up in French politics, which is on everyone's mind here, even if it's one of the three subjects people say are not to be discussed at a dinner party (the [...]

avril 2012

Not other than this

By | 2015-10-02T15:39:43+00:00 avril 23rd, 2012|Textes|

Already Monday, late on a quiet night. Much coming and going each day, like the wind and rain and clouds and sun. Yesterday was election day in France, and I voted for the first time. Writing that, I'm wondering what "vote" means... Many people "voted" like I did, many did not, still others did not [...]

Back

By | 2015-10-02T15:39:55+00:00 avril 17th, 2012|Textes|

First day back at work after much time away, and particularly after the lovely week of retreat in Belgium at the Château de Frandeux. It was a deep, wide, rich practice with a group of 108 participants... Now so many things to say... ...but, as I said there one morning, the lake swallowed my words. [...]