Polar Bear Plunge

This morning I witnessed the annual Polar Bear Plunge at Northwestern University's beach into the "tepid" waters of Lake Michigan . The water was a "balmy "33 degrees F. They clear off a patch of beach area and created  a little swimming  hole as the lake is gusty wild and icey. There are fire fighters for rescue  on standby and a warming tent nearby. None the less, it  was chilly as I got splashed a few times. It looked like exhilarating fun,Perhaps next year I will plunge in as well.

The Birth of ........a new pose

birth in water

It is about a week now that I have been given "dwi pada",my newest pose in the intermediate series. I am reminded how this process of  ashtanga with the introduction of a one pose at a time to a practitioner is reminiscent to me of the birhting process, each pose a newborn child to get to know. I reminded of meeting my daughter  in real time and space as opposed  to "in my dreams". I am remembering the newness and ectasy of seeing each new finger, toe,eyelash,lips,tongue,earlobe,  everything,the new sounds of a steady beating heart, whispy breathing,gurggles in the belly. It was as if  this was the very first time I really ever met a human being.There was joy,honor, gratitude, reverance, gladness.When I meet a new pose, I feel that I am getting to know myself almost for the first time again. It is refreshing to contemplate how new and old positions, movements, breathing meld together into a new configuration. It is almost as if all of the preceding poses, movements and processes were a gestational preaparation for this new process to occur  with a new pose. Like the paricipating and watching of  one's child develop, so too the pose requires patience, love , compassion, continued  interest, acceptance as to how it evolves, what it becomes in time,and what new developments ensue from this ongoing process,So for me,ashtanga yoga reminds me each time I get on my mat and practice
of renewed ,gestation, birth, maturation and change...

Liberation

The sanskrit word for liberation is "moksha". Today I have been thinking about the meaning of freedom.I think of the song by Jerry Hannan,"Society".In this case , less is more, the lyrics say  it better than I ever could...

t's a mystery to me

we have a greed
with which we have agreed

You think you have to want
more than you need
until you have it all you won't be free

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me

When you want more than you have
you think you need
and when you think more than you want
your thoughts begin to bleed

I think I need to find a bigger place
'cos when you have more than you think
you need more space

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

There's those thinking more or less less is more
but if less is more how you're keeping score?
Means for every point you make
your level drops
kinda like it's starting from the top
you can't do that...

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

Society, have mercy on me
I hope you're not angry if I disagree
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

There are many ways society entraps us with things,but we are  own worst entrappers  of ourselves

Feathers Hope and Yoga

Yesterday after a nice calming yoga practice I witnessed a sweet exchange between two yogini friends.Both of these yoginis are healers in their own way,one is a nurturer,healer of flora,the other a rescuer of birds in the wild urban terraine.So after mysore practice as one tended to an ill old rubber plant in the Mysore room,the other presented her with a gift of the above beautiful feathers that she found in her yard.
This small gesture between friends was notable to me as I have an old bird memory ,story that resurfaced as I saw these lovely feathers.
When I was about 5 years old ,I was in the basement of the apartment building we lived in.It was early summer,bright,sunny and warm.the basement was dark damp ,frightening to me.I was on a laundry errand and wanted to get out of the basement quickly ,so I left the door to the yard open.A bird unknowingly was lost and flew in.It was flapping its wings quickly,it began screeching,knocking into windows ,the wall,.I opened the door more ,but the bird was mired in a frenzy.The landlady who looked like the wicked witch in Hansel and Gretel who ate children burst down the stairs and in response to the chaos began swatting the air with her witch broom.by this point,I was terrified for me and the bird.the witch in her whiney squeel said to me,"birds like this can pluck your eyes out!"
I was undone,I ran out of the basement with the bird flying out to safety into the yard.That memory has haunted me all these years ,but yesterday as i looked and held these beautiful feathers and witnessed a small gesture of friendship in the gift of these feathers,I felt hopeful ,less afraid as if a frightening memory of childhood was melting just a little bit .

The Injured Fawn

Fawn limping in snowy pasture today

It was snowing on the way to work today,all was quiet,serene,white.I stopped briefly to find my fair fawn friends. I found  recent wet  fresh tracks of the deer, some droppings as well. They had scurried off already, but one young tender one was left behind.He/she stood in the distance with a sad pleading look in its eyes. It was wobbling, unsteady, unable to leap, prance. It reminded me of me when I broke my pinky toe a few months ago(yes, embarrassingly a yoga injury, clipping my toe on a jump through). I know not how this young fawn was injured, but it definitely had lost the spring in its gait. I photographed from a distance as it wobbled into a denser patch of  forest. When a deer is injured, the herd does not wait. The herd continues to move on , interested in the survival and protection of the fit that move along with it .In my heart ,I know this young fawn ,  unseasoned yet  in self preservation  and now weakened will be at greater risk to predation. There realistically was nothing I could do as I am not a vet,nor am I am a wizardess of the forest well versed in the art of healing animals, so I walked on  in contemplation , with reservation.It made me think of the times ,I can do something that can meaningfully help change another's life for the better. It made me think of times, I may have walked away, when it was in my power to be of good use to another. In general, I think am effortful and vigilant in regards to trying to be helpful,but there are time it is incovenient, burdensome or even annoying,and I am reflecting today, on what I do , when I do not feel like stretching myself  for whatever reason. We are human and animal  as well and sometimes leave the weaker behind ,just like a herd of deer. But today, I see those pained,alone eyes of this injured young fawn walking away .... dear reader what would you have done?

Photography and My Phoenix Rising

Mythical Phoenix Rising

 It is now the seventh  and last week of the photograpghy course I am taking. The time went quickly and I learned much. I am sad that it is ending as it was a time of renewed exploration for me , which I hope is only the entry to a long creative odyssey. I have learned new things and also remember old concepts that I was introduced to many years ago. Mostly, it has felt like getting reaquainted with an old cherished friend, someone or something that I have woefully neglected these many years. There initially was a flood of new technological concepts, but once the flurry and glamour of  the new  modern techniques settled down, I was back in my own element of renewed artistry, vision and mostly the treasured gift of "seeing".I do not really know why I have neglected this passion sitting , waiting inside of me for so long.Photograghy has always been on my mind, it always is part of how I see the world, yet I have not picked up my camera as a natural companion for so so long.
  I believe that much of my refound exhuberance is due to my own ongoing developmental process, rejuvenation, perhaps even resurrection. I think unknowingly, I have slept through many years of my life, not that my life is uninteresting or without meaning. But, the part of life having to do with pursuing a passion,doing things the way I want to do them rather than just doing them because they are the right things to do with one's  life, is emerging with greater confidence of late.As I look back on the many"things" , I have done in my life, it seems I have spent much time on the "dutiful track," not that is not a worthwhile way to live a life.I do not think that it was much of a priority as I grew up to give freedom of exploration of myself or a curiousity by those who raised me to get to know the  me emerging inside. As I work with many families and their children, I observe the common trap of parents "creating children in their own image", not giving  much attention to the person the child inherently is and thus fostering their growth based on the child's unique talents and passions.I, as many of us on this planet, race along on the"dutiful,their expectations track",never really living our lives.When we come across those who"dare to be different",those that choose a path that is uniquely theirs, those who unabashedly pursue their passions, we are frightened, perhaps jealous of their courage, to live their life as awake and vibrant.
   So this photography class has shaken my world some. It has kindled my memory of the many passions I have let lay dormant in the service of duty and service. I remember vividly, my first slr film camera and more importantly the me curious about all of life. I remember the me who walked and walked in another country
stopping to talk to people on the sreets.I remember the wondrous stories of their lives, how their bodily gestures, facial expression spoke more than any words.  I remember my reverance at taking in the beauty of the human face.I remember the sometimes coy request to take their picture and somehow top off, seal the moment as treasured. I have long longed to return to something of those days. I have long longed to allow me to know me better. I have longed to develop such courage as  to live life with greater meaning,passion and eros.,allowing myself the gifts I find in "seeing" and sharing that passion .....

The fawn and those who draw water from the spring

Yes,my deer friends were there again today grazing on a melting snow patch in the bright forest day light..The sun reflecting on the snow was almost blinding.The deer seemed frisky today,approaching closer to me ,then skipping away.They were rambunctious with each other playful and provocative.They seemed hungry,hoping I had some food for them .There were some other people around today.They seemed less curious about the deer as they were pumping spring water into huge containers to lug home.I asked them why do you think the deer always come here.A woman with an eastern European accent told me ,it is because the children feed them carrots and celery,they are hungry in the winter.A herd of human beings regularly congregate around this water pump in the forest preserve.They usually have many vats of water sweet fresh pumped from the spring under the pasture covered with snow,They come from different countries,but they all seem to share something in common that it seems we have lost in this urban techno world.Their pace is a little slower,they talk to each other about amazing topics like the taste of water.They are comfortable with the deer grazing next to them as a usual occurrence.They know how to collect wild mushrooms when spring arrives.They tell me what time of day the deer will be back.They seem to naturally know when the sun sets and rises as if they share this secret with the deer.
I feel like the outsider,the uneducated in the nuances of the natural world.I find I want to know not only the fawn grazing,but those who take time to draw and drink these waters.Perhaps they can teach me that which they take for granted and I must relearn.

New Pose-Dwi Pada Sirsana

dwi pada sirsana 

In the ashtanga yoga system the asanas are learned in  a specific order in the context of a series of asanas. After learning, practicing, assimilating a pose, you are then given the next pose in the series to learn and integrate into your practice. Some poses come quickly and others require much patience. There is an interplay, a pas de deux, between student and teacher as to when  it is ripe to accept, to receive the unfolding of a new pose. It is not easy to predict when this readiness for the new occurs. There are some who get frustrated with this process and experience an impingement on their freedom to explore on their own terms. I feel , for me, that there is a subtler form of liberation that is dependent on my readiness , but also in "being known" by a teacher that mirrors my exploration and helps me to inquire more deeply within myself.When I receive a new pose, it is not only about mastering the physical aspects of the asana. I need to learn to configure this new action, this new way of being into all aspects of what preceded this new pose and all that may come after it. I ask myself where have I been on the journey to get here,and what has transpired on the way here, and what is "here","now"  and how does this moment, this "me" connect with the past, present and future variations of me that evolve yet remain constant. I have to consider how to move into the pose, how to move out of it, what are the rudimentary elements of breathing in this new space, within myself. In some ways it is akin to exploring a new planet in the galaxy. There is vast opportunity for self exploration, for me to learn something different about myself. It is a sort of rebirth. Today was such a day. My teacher , Bill suggested I try dwi pada sirsana(2 legs behind head) as I have been  stuck in eka pada(one leg behind head) for two years now. As of late, things have shifted a little.Eka pada has become more of a companion than a foe. It is a metaphor for me of how a struggle can become supple, as it does not really matter how many or if any legs I can place behind my head.I celebrate the moments of growth . I am in gratitude to all of my teachers, friends, acquaintances who  influence and guide me to greater understandings and explorations.It is uncanny that as I begin to feel the subtle rumblings of  vernal equinox moving close upon us that Spring has alighted on my mat, into my practice, to me...I wish all of you who venture upon my blog to begin to feel the light liberation of springtime that is in reach...It is not a prerequisite for spring or growth or change to occur for us to put any legs behind any where, but spring is about our awakening, our ability to challenge ourselves  and explore with as much supple curiousity as we are able.

February Folklore

February

Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de BerryFrench Medieval Book of Hours, 1412"The word February is believed to have derived from the name 'Februa' taken from the Roman
'Festival of Purification'.  The root 'februo' meaning to 'I purify by sacrifice'.  As part of the seasonal
calendar February is the time of the 'Ice Moon' according to Pagan beliefs, and the period described
as the 'Moon of the Dark Red Calf' by Black Elk.  February has also been known as 'Sprout-kale'
by the Anglo-Saxons in relation to the time the kale and cabbage was edible."-   Mystical WWW    Some folklore on the month of February;
  My personal folklore in the middle of February, I have noticed that each year around this time, the days get a little longer, the sunsets become a more vivid rose and if you get up at dawn and touch the texture of the air and rub it through your fingertips, there is a cool crisp clean wetness in the air,almost like a moist spray of early spring sap.My pranayama practice feels richer, more alive,it is easier to breathe as the air contains this subtle moisture, purifying,indeed. It is a hopeful feeling that spring does and will return .... 

On Love

This a today's posting from the Writer's Almanac. I quote it as it reflects the notion of the existence of a perfect love. I wonder about romantic love-is it luck, is it something you seek out,that you toil for daily or is it just random, ineffable,something that really can not be described in words as to how ,why, if ,when and with whom it can happen. it remains of the greatest mysteries to me.....
   Today is Valentine's Day, the day on which we celebrate love, especially romantic love. The holiday was named after an early Christian priest, St. Valentine, who was martyred on February 14 in 269 A.D.
The tradition of exchanging love notes on Valentine's Day originates from the martyr Valentine himself. The legend maintains that due to a shortage of enlistments, Emperor Claudius II forbade single men to get married in an effort to bolster his struggling army. Seeing this act as a grave injustice, Valentine performed clandestine wedding rituals in defiance of the emperor. Valentine was discovered, imprisoned, and sentenced to death by beheading. While awaiting his fate in his cell, it is believed that Valentine fell in love with the daughter of a prison guard, who would come and visit him. On the day of his death, Valentine left a note for the young woman professing his undying devotion signed "Love from your Valentine."
Poets Robert Browning (books by this author) and Elizabeth Barrett Browning (books by this author) carried out one of the most famous romantic correspondences in literary history. They first introduced themselves by epistolary means, and fell in love even before they had met in person. The letter that began their relationship was written by Robert in January 1845; it was essentially a piece of fan mail to esteemed poet Elizabeth Barrett. He wrote:
"I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett — and this is no offhand complimentary letter that I shall write — whatever else, no prompt matter-of-course recognition of your genius and there a graceful and natural end of the thing: since the day last week when I first read your poems, I quite laugh to remember how I have been turning and turning again in my mind what I should be able to tell you of their effect upon me ..."
Elizabeth Barrett responded right away: "I thank you, dear Mr Browning, from the bottom of my heart. ... Such a letter from such a hand!"
She continued, "I will say that I am your debtor, not only for this cordial letter & for all the pleasure which came with it, but in other ways, & those the highest: & I will say that while I live to follow this divine art of poetry, ... in proportion to my love for it & my devotion for it, I must be a devout admirer & student of your works. This is in my heart to say to you & I say it."
They continued writing to each other, clandestinely, for a year and a half, and then they secretly got married in 1846. Right before the wedding, Robert mailed off to Elizabeth a letter that said: "Words can never tell you, however, — form them, transform them anyway, — how perfectly dear you are to me – perfectly dear to my heart and soul. I look back, and in every one point, every word and gesture, every letter, every silence — you have been entirely perfect to me — I would not change one word, one look. I am all gratitude — and all pride (under the proper feeling which ascribes pride to the right source) all pride that my life has been so crowned by you."
And then, the day after the wedding, she wrote to him:
"What could be better than [your] lifting me from the ground and carrying me into life and the sunshine? ... All that I am, I owe you — if I enjoy anything now and henceforth, it is through you."
During their courtship, she was composing sonnets for him, which she presented to him as a wedding gift. The sonnets were published in 1850 and include one of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's most famous poems ever:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

The Night,Nostalgia and Memory

alfred stieglitz's photo at night

This poem appeared today in the Writer's Almanac,I thought The poet captured a feeling that the night often conjures up in me,the flickering ,fogginess of the the night is often the place that memory is stirred up in me, thank you Ms. Potter for putting this feeling into words
      

Nostalgia

by Dawn Potter

It was darker then, in the nights when the cars
Came sliding around the traffic circle, when the headlights
Speckled with rain traveled the bedroom walls
and vanished; when the typewriter, the squeaking chair,
the slow voice of the radio stirred the night air like a fan.
Of course, the ones we loved were beautiful—
slim, dark-haired, intent on their books.
The rain came swishing against the lamp-lit windows.
The cat purred in his chair. A clock sang,
and we lay nearly asleep, almost dreaming,
almost alone, nearly gone—the days fly so;
and the nights, like sleep, disappear without memory.

The Conjugation of the Paramecium

For Valentine's Day;

The Conjugation of the Paramecium
by Muriel Rukeyser
paramecium conjugating This has nothing to do with propagating The species is continued as so many are (among the smaller creatures) by fission (and this species is very small next in order to the amoeba, the beginning one) The paramecium achieves, then, immortality by dividing But when the paramecium desires renewal strength another joy this is what the paramecium does: The paramecium lies down beside another paramecium Slowly inexplicably the exchange takes place in which some bits of the nucleus of each are exchanged for some bits of the nucleus of the other This is called the conjugation of the paramecium.

Why do I practice Ashtanga Yoga

kapotasana

Here is the simple, but complex reason. Yoga is many different things to many different people.There are many styles of yoga to choose from.  We tend to  gravitate towards a practice based on our tempraments  to a guidebook that makes sense to us to  further our  personal discovery. Ashtanga yoga, by some is described as intense, invigorating ,demanding-all of that can be true at times, but lately as I get more comfortable in certain poses and I begin to experience what is thought of  as circular breath , I find  that simple but eloquent self truths are emerging,things that should be obvious to me, but are refound and seem as though they are discovered for the very first time.Here are some recent examples of the past few days..There is the famous "valley of  Kapotasana ."Here,our world is literally turned topsy, turvy, the breath gets thready, for me there is a sense of submersion,tightness, constriction of breath. Of late, I am taking deeper calmer breaths and have focused more on an even type of  breathing,  less panic, burgeoning  curiosity about the panic, some early  steadiness,it feels somehow that my limbs move more freely, less congestion, less fear.All that is hopeful, rewarding, but a more profound simpler experience occured this morning. I was starting out my practice as I usually do with the surya namaskaras.When I was in downdog, my teacher softly said,"you keep moving your hands". This was true- I had noticed it myself as well. I also sligthly moved my feet as I pulled up to downdog from chaturanga{staff pose}.She, my teacher suggested ,not moving, that wherever,however I jump into any pose, just stay there and breathe, no readjusting to some goal that I imagined felt or was somehow better than where "I had  landed myself" . I found this daunting, challenging, that I was impatient to find the perfect distance between my hands and feet, so everything else would flow perfectly in its place. I felt a sadness  rising in me , almost tearing , when I realized that I was the one who jumped into this space, that I needed to learn to explore where I took myself just as it is, no extra movements or changes, only exploration for I ened up in this  present moment by my  own action , intention and design. When I finished my practice today I was contemlpative, thinking of all the many situations, places, relationships that"I" orchestrated," landed myself into", I am thinking about how I arrived in  these places, and now that I am where I have taken myself, to stop fidgetting and move  more deeply explore the possibilities of where I am right now, where I  put myself and if it does not suit me to be where I placed myself,where I landed myself , after some exploration, curiosity , think about how to adjust myself  with subtleness and possibley learn about not yet lived explorations, intentions and experiences......

What do Elephants Know about "Love"

The Elephant is Slow to Mate	photograph by nick brandt
by D. H. Lawrence
The elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; he finds a female, they show no haste they wait for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts slowly, slowly to rouse as they loiter along the river-beds and drink and browse and dash in panic through the brake of forest with the herd, and sleep in massive silence, and wake together, without a word. So slowly the great hot elephant hearts grow full of desire, and the great beasts mate in secret at last, hiding their fire. Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts so they know at last how to wait for the loneliest of feasts for the full repast. They do not snatch, they do not tear; their massive blood moves as the moon-tides, near, more near till they touch in flood

Instructions for Finding Forest Fawn

How to See Deer
by Philip Booth
Forget roadside crossings. Go nowhere with guns. Go elsewhere your own way, lonely and wanting. Or stay and be early: next to deep woods inhabit old orchards. All clearings promise. Sunrise is good, and fog before sun. Expect nothing always; find your luck slowly. Wait out the windfall. Take your good time to learn to read ferns; make like a turtle: downhill toward slow water. Instructed by heron, drink the pure silence. Be compassed by wind. If you quiver like aspen trust your quick nature: let your ear teach you which way to listen. You've come to assume protective color; now colors reform to new shapes in your eye. You've learned by now to wait without waiting; as if it were dusk look into light falling: in deep relief things even out. Be careless of nothing. See what you see.
When a sight in the forest is as beautiful as this, why not see it as often as possible

What we can learn from the iconic Richard Avedon

I often feel that people come to me to be photographed as they would go to a doctor  or a forture teller--to find out how they are. So they’re dependent on me.  I have to engage them. Otherwise there’s nothing to photograph.  The concentration has to come from me and involve them. Sometimes the force of it grows  so strong that sounds in the studio go unheard. Time stops. We share a brief, intense intimacy. But it’s unearned. It has no past...no future. And when the sitting is over —when the picture is done—there’s nothing left except the photograph... the photograph and a kind of embarrassment. They leave..and I don’t know them.  I’ve hardly heard what they’ve said. If I meet them a week later in a room somewhere,  I expect they won’t recognize me. Because I don’t feel I was really there.  At least the part of me that was is now in the photograph.  And the photographs have a reality for me that the people don’t.  It’s through the photographs that I know them. - Richard Avedon

I am only stimulated by people, never by ideas, almost never.  It is always an emotional response. It is always an emotional response. It is always between  myself and myself and another person – this is what it boils dwon to.  I am not interested in the technique of photography or of camera.  I am not interested in light. What I want is light in which the subject is free to move  in any way without falling into an ugly light. So that I can get to them,  to the expression they make, so that they are free to do or express  something which is the way I feel. The camera is most in the way.  If I could do what I want with my eyes alone, I would be happy.  Then when I get it on paper, on the negative, if there was something in the eyes  when I took the picture, then when I look at the print, there are things  that I can do to emphasize that. But when I’m used to an approach, it becomes like a person that I have no response to.  The approach to the print is like the approach to the sitter.  Certain qualities in the print say what I mean. I hate photographs, most photographs.  I cannot take a picture of something I have not known and experienced myself,  because I do not know what is going on.  The photograph is not reportage. I do not believe that something reports  itself in a photograph. It is redrawn; it is something I am saying.  - Richard Avedon, The Best of Popular Photography  by Harvey V. Fondiller , ISBN: 0871650371 , Page: 9 Yesterday ,I had the opportunity to watch a documentary on Richard Avedon  in my photography class. I have heard much about the iconic Richard Avedon- We all are familiar with his famous photographs in Harper's Bazzar, Vogue.  I had not followed him closely. After watching the documentary and live interviews with him  and those he photograghed, a sensitive, gifted,thouhgtful  and truthful man emerged, someone I would have liked to have met , if I could have during his lifetime. He had an interactive style  that  disarmed  and something about the human personal dilemma became palpable in his presence..  I think I passed  over his work,from a superficial, inattentive, biased  perspective.  I regret  that I did not appreciate the humanity in his large body  of  effortful ,dedicated and intense work until now..  I was especiallly moved by the photos of his father's last years of life.  Avedon had photographed many famous people, but not his father  because of misunderstandings between them. He could not share  with his father what was  the best of himself and in some ways  he had received through his father.There are those who criticized the work  as a sesationalism of his father's death and suffering with cancer..  So far from the truth that seems to me. I believe Avedon was trying to show us something  about the dignity  of an undignified situation in suffering and in dying.   Avedon talked about the artist's position  that does not  show beauty for beauty's sake,  but presents us with experiences that make us think  and even rattle us up ,cause us to feel. I think he was struggling to understand his father  and through his careful attention and compassion be known to his father. It is challenging at times between parents and children to be recognized for  we who are and that we may  be a mirror or reaction to what a parent imparted upon us. A parent may not even recognize or possibly deny the many ways  that they have influenced their child.  I think the photos of his father's dying are an attempt to shed light on  the complexity that exists between a father and  son,  that sometimes may never really resolve,  but it is to be respected and acknowledged.. Richard Avedon photographed his father for 7 years as he declined in cancer. Now, both he and his father are dead.   These photographs document our basic need to chronicle our lives,  and the most important relationships  for  as  imperfect as they are ,they are who we are.  I applaud Richard  for his unflappable integrity and compassionate intense approach to humanity.