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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.

octobre 2011

We are all 1

By | 2015-10-02T16:08:50+00:00 octobre 8th, 2011|Textes|

There's something starting to gather force in America these days, the "Occupy Wall Street" protest movement. On it's Web site, Occupy Wall Street explains that it "is a leaderless resistance movement with people of many colors, genders and political persuasions. The one thing we all have in common is that We Are The 99% that [...]

Love in the métro

By | 2015-10-02T16:09:53+00:00 octobre 4th, 2011|Textes|

Came across this quote today: "The entire cosmos is a cooperative." I suppose that says it all. What would happen if we each realized only that? In the métro, I had a taste this morning. In need of help to sort out why my son's annual transport pass wasn't working, I inquired at the window [...]

Telling the tale

By | 2015-10-02T16:10:50+00:00 octobre 2nd, 2011|Textes|

Tonight a new month suddenly looks like a wonderful opportunity to "settle down" after a crazy, scattered September: What have I been doing all these days and weeks? All and nothing. I can't even remember the beginning of it all... Bits and pieces of the day come to mind, a work day of reading and [...]

septembre 2011

Nothing special

By | 2015-10-02T16:11:52+00:00 septembre 24th, 2011|Textes|

All quiet on Indian summer night as a car rumbles by in the street outside and the dishwasher hums in the kitchen. A lot of coming and going out there; and probably a lot in here, too. Someone asked me awhile ago what I had done today. Funny, but I couldn't really say, although I [...]

Breathless like a miracle

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:17+00:00 septembre 19th, 2011|Textes|

Here at my desk at this late hour. What is it now? And who? Perched before me is an image of Giacometti's sculpture L'Homme qui chavire, his Tottering Man, a thing of such wonder that I can't take my eyes off it. It's nothing special, really, just a black and white photograph, taken by Ernst [...]

Cat and mouse

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:17+00:00 septembre 18th, 2011|Textes|

It's Sunday night. Already? Or again? Temperatures have fallen, with precipitation (or rain, as they say), as have the shares of French banks and financial markets everywhere. Someone is gaining, someone losing. Which is which? Or are they really just the same? The cat, meanwhile, has been in the hunt for mice these days in [...]

Do you remember?

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:17+00:00 septembre 11th, 2011|Textes|

Do you remember? It was stunning: A perfect morning. Planes cruising across an impeccably blue sky and crashing into shining towers standing tall and invincible under a brilliant sun in the symbolic heart of the richest, most mighty nation on earth. Suddenly, nothing was what it had seemed to be. Suddenly, every certitude crumbled, collapsing [...]

Happy and back, mutually

By | 2015-10-02T16:15:30+00:00 septembre 5th, 2011|Textes|

After all these weeks away, here I come again. Summer was deep and wide and full. I loved the sun, the sea, the moon, the trees, the forests, the darkness, the light, the heat, the chill, the cities, the highways, the rain, the thunder... There were so many beautiful meetings, with myself and others, with [...]

août 2011