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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.

février 2011

Joyce’s birthday as Cairo rages

By | 2015-10-02T16:42:53+00:00 février 2nd, 2011|Textes|

James Joyce's birthday. A nod to Dublin's finest. May he rest in peace. And? No resting in peace in Cairo tonight as clashes are raging in Tahrir Square. So sad. What is so captivating, too, in this unfolding tale in Egypt (and elsewhere in the "Arab" world these days) is the desire to be free. [...]

Retreat in the Heart of Life

By | 2015-10-08T17:34:32+00:00 février 2nd, 2011|Retraites au coeur de la vie|

A retreat in the heart of life Feb. 14-19 in Paris or wherever you are Where are you? Wherever you are, life is there! And Zen practice is nowhere else! Take a plunge into the heart of your life just as it is, with the Wild Flower Zen Sangha. Come join the sitting or sit [...]

janvier 2011

They’re joining as one in Cairo tonight

By | 2015-10-02T16:43:12+00:00 janvier 30th, 2011|Textes|

All of this upheaval in Egypt that I read about, hear about, seems absolutely incomprehensible and absolutely comprehensible at once. I feel I'm with them and not, so far and right here. In a magazine, I come upon this fragment written by Roland Barthes in 1977: "Each of us has his own rhythm of suffering." [...]

Thanks

By | 2015-10-08T17:14:21+00:00 janvier 28th, 2011|Poésie|

Warm thanks to all those who came out to hear me read last night. It was a great crowd. Watch for the video to be posted here soon!

On having never left

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:18+00:00 janvier 26th, 2011|Textes|

The other day I took from my shelf a book (plays by Sam Shepard) that I have not touched for many, many years. I open it at random and out falls a postcard image of James Joyce... I look inside the cover, where I had as usual written the date of the book's purchase: 01/81. [...]

Where are we?

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:18+00:00 janvier 24th, 2011|Textes|

We sat all together yesterday, starting out with the question, "Where are we?" It made for a fabulous morning --- the answers kept coming to me, arising one after the other: on the floor, on a cushion, under the ceiling, in front of the table, in the house, in the garden, in the living room, [...]