https://aeon.co/videos/what-can-73-homes-arranged-by-household-income-say-about-their-residents
Author: Katherine
Poetry writer and author
A different expression
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Why does the Torah tell us to place the Holy Words on our hearts?
Apparently, there was a young man who was speaking to his rabbi and
he says, “Rabbi, why does the Torah tell us to place the Holy Words on
our hearts? Why doesn’t it tell us to
place the Holy Words in our
hearts?” The rabbi responds, “Well, because as it is, our hearts are a
little closed and we cannot place the words inside our hearts so we
place them on our hearts and there they stay until one day the heart
breaks and the word
s fall in.” That’s really what we’re doing. We’re just
placing these words on our hearts and one day, the heart will break
and the words will fall in
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Lamb of God, have mercy on us
A very moving performance
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The orchestra of Auschwitz
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Rational Calculations,O Jesu
Affect matters more than numbers do
Reason without love ,so blind to ends
Rational means were used to kill our Jews.
Searching Europe’s “haystacks” for a clue
Reason makes its wondrous, obscene blend
Affect matters more than numbers do
When Belsen was relieved, who bought the glue?
The bones of suffering dead might,did offend
Rational calculaters tortured Jews.
Was Jesus rational, what the end he knew?
See his mother Mary, weeping,kind.
Affect matters more than numbers do
By the Christians, Jesus was abused
His brothers and his sisters barred, disdained
Factories were used to gas his Jews.
How to see what matters in the end
Hate outweighed by Love, controlled not blamed
Affect matters more than numbers do
Rational calculations ,G-d, oh G-d, Jesu.
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The end of love’s despair
Her wedding ring, pure gold from tooth of Jew
On her finger bitterly did cling
As she left the altar wedded now
The ashes of the Jews in earth would sing
Oh, mother’s teeth with gold were very rich
The doctor dragged them out with pliers new
As she heaved and gave a shudder,flinched,
He hit her with his gun till her blood flew
Father was as rigid as a corpse
His mouth was opened with a butcher’s knife
His golden fillings swiftly were appraised
But Father died before his his tender wife
Not human, but mere Jews, why should we care?
Dance them to the end of love’s despair
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An Israeli for peace
A Mighty Voice for Peace Has Gone Silent: Uri Avnery, 1923-2018
A Mighty Voice for Peace Has Gone Silent: Uri Avnery, 1923-2018
“We received word early this morning that Israeli human rights activist and long-time CounterPunch contributor Uri Avnery died in Tel Aviv, following a heart attack.
Avnery, who was one of the first Israelis to call for the creation of a Palestinian state, was 94. He lived a sprawling life. He was born in Germany in 1923 and his family fled to British Palestine a few months after Hitler came to power. As a young man he was dispersed leaflets for the Irgun, a terrorist Zionist organization, and it haunted him for most of his life. Avnery would later play chess with Yasser Arafat and become one of the PLO’s most ardent Israeli defenders.
Avnery began sending us his column in 2002, only a few months after CounterPunch went online. And they came, usually on a Friday night, with a faithful regularity. The first column Avnery sent us was “The Ship is on the Way,” on the blockade of Gaza. The final one, a scathing indictment of Israel’s new “Basic Law,” was published on August 6, under the title “Who the Hell are we.”
Alexander Cockburn was one of Uri’s most faithful readers. Even though Cockburn disagreed with Avnery about the two-state solution and other political matters, he admired the high quality and fluidity of Avnery’s prose. Cockburn once told me that Avnery reminded him of his father Claud. Alex marveled at his ability to churn out original and compelling columns even while struggling with illness, age or the loss of his wife.”
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No dogs.. but it’s the neighbour who upsets me
I am pleased to say my little black cat has come back to sleep by my door on a cushion on a chair.No sign of any dog.You’d think if anyone had 5 pedigree dogs they would make sure the dogs were secure in the garden
We even had some sun yesterday but I still have vertigo.So I went to see a friend who lives in my street.She is so sweet and gentle I find it easy being with her.We don’t argue.We get on very well and have plenty to talk about.
I wish Doris Bonnsoon would emigrate ot go back where their grandad came from.
He or she is making life whole lot worse for us folk.Free Britain.Send Doris to Tasmania
He came, he saw, he haunted
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When life seems grey
When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head When life runs like a river to the sea Then shall I take new lovers to my bed? And with their carnal touch consoled be? When my love lies,so breaks my tender heart. When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path. Then, shall I my life of evil start? And on the world shall I bestow my wrath? When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty. When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad. Then I shall upend causality And let myself do deeds which make me glad. For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
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English irony
I went to the hospital for a check up and it was full of immigrants
The consultant was Greek
The nurse who did punch biopsies was from Mozambique.That’s not even in the EU
The man pushing wheelchairs was from Jamaica.
The junior doctor was German.Why she might have been a descendant of Hitler.
Then I got on the bus and the driver was Indian
I didn’t even know Indians could drive
When I got off the bus I met a man with a dog.
The dog was Chinese!
Why don’t people have English dogs like rottweilers and alsations or even border collies and greyhounds?
They have buses for greyhounds in the USA.Can’t they walk?
I thought that was why people had dogs… to walk them.
How about buses for Siamese cats?
Now, there’s an idea
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Stan teaches statistics and rings 999
Stan was teaching social statistics to a group of elderly neighbors.Since he was 109 it gave them all hope to see him demonstrating his prowess with various techniques.
He was planning to do some logic and philosophy too.Annie was sitting by the door so she could answer the bell if any paramedics turned up for tea.
I’m not going to calculate ” the standard deviations” he murmured.”I just want you to grasp the general purpose.”
“Deviation,they’re not normal are they?” enquired his neighbor Henry,an ex-English teacher. ”So how can they be standard.It’s confusing..”
“Are you thinking of deviants?” Stan enquired calmly yet firmly
”Certainly not,at my age I’m a bit past that!””Still it adds a bit of excitement to the class.” he thought.
How do words in ordinary language relate to those in Statistics?” asked Henry philosphically
“They are just more precisely defined in statistics.To say someone is a deviant is a rather vague term.”
“No,it’s not! My neighbor is a deviant.He always dresses entirely in yellow.”
“Well,that must be hard to do.Certainly unusual.” Stan agreed boldly.
“But in another country that might be the norm.So it’s a matter of context.In statistics it’s more boring.There’s a formula.It’s totally independent of context.Have you ever wondered why so many mathematicians have more than a touch of Asperger’s syndrome?”
“No,it’s not something that wanders through my mind much”replied Henry
A shudder passed through the room at hearing the word “formula“,which perhaps they considered something of a deviant!
Anything with letters and numbers mixed together is certainly not welcome in many people’s minds, along with their more unusual sexual tastes, desires and inclinations which were kept secret even from themselves in many cases.
“Time for tea.” called Annie,hoping to divert their attention.She carried in a platter of mouse sandwiches kindly donated by the local ambulance service and some iced Victoria sponge she and Stan had made the day before.
“Just a quick word about next week.We’ll take a look at ratios and proportions and maybe see how that relates to the concept of rationality.”
“That sounds fun!” Annie called encouragingly.Henry decided to act on a deviant desire and fell onto her lap
.”Oh,dear!” she gasped loudly as the chair collapsed under her.
”Why can’t you be deviant at home?”
“My wife won’t let me!” He kindly answered.
“And look,” Stan continued,”we’ll have to ring 999.This chair is in fragments.I thought for one day we’d be able to avoid calling them out!”
“Well, life is not controllable.” said a quiet but fierce looking lady with sharp green eyes.”That’s what makes it tolerable“
She then greedily consumed a very large piece of iced cake .
“I can stand the thinking if the cake is good” she whispered to her shy friend Amy.
”That’s rather a feeble argument,”Amy retorted.”You can’t really compare cake and statistics.”
“I’ll compare anything I like!” the green eyed woman snarled loudly.
“You do what you like but you must keep a sense of proportion!”
“Now then,have you rung 999?” Stan queried of Annie.
”Yes,here they are,and they’ve got a stretcher for the chair!”
“Well,that’s certainly unusual,even deviant“,Stan thought anxiously to himself.
”Where do they get their funding? Is there a fund for distributing money to help chairs which are not normal?
.To be continued.. and continued
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Poetry and humour
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poems?field_poem_themes_tid=1596
My Mother Wants to Know if I’m Dead
ARE YOU DEAD? is the subject line of her email.
The text outlines the numerous ways she thinks
I could have died: slain by an axe-murderer, lifeless
on the side of a highway, choked to death by smoke
since I’m a city girl and likely didn’t realize you needed
to open the chimney flue before making a fire (and,
if I do happen to be alive, here’s a link to a YouTube
video on fireplace safety that I should watch). Mom
muses about the point of writing this email. If I am
already dead, which is what she suspects, I wouldn’t
be able to read it. And if I’m alive, what kind of daughter
am I not to write her own mother to let her know
that I’ve arrived at my fancy residency, safe and sound,
and then to immediately send pictures of everything,
like I promised her! If this was a crime show, she posits,
the detective might accuse her of sending this email
as a cover up for murder. How could she be the murderer,
if she wrote an email to her daughter asking if she was murdered?
her defense lawyers would argue at the trial. In fact,
now that she thinks of it, this email is the perfect alibi
for murdering me. And that is something I should
definitely keep in mind, if I don’t write her back
as soon as I have a free goddamn second to spare.
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Humour
I went into a coffee shop and the waitress said,
Are you still here?
I looked round all the tables and I couldn’t see myself
So I said,No!
I went to a hairdresser and asked for a cut and blow dry
She said, what do you want me to do?
Buy some scissors
I went to the Bank and a man in the queue said to me are you married
I said, why are you asking?
He said,I lost my wife in Marks and Spencers so I am looking for another
How long since you lost her?
Over an hour!
I went to the bus stop but it didn’t
I wanted a red pepper but they only had black
The pieces are so small I can’t understand how they pick them
My fence blew away and I thought:
I bet Trump wants it.So I am building a dry stone wall.
I have got the stones so I put them in the oven to dry
iF anyone climbs on this they will get burned
.
Non verbal communicarion is good at dinner parties
Pull faces, stick your tongue out and wriggle your ears
Then they won’t mind when you leave
They might even pay for a cab
Eye contact is hard when you wear spectacles
Who ever heard of eyeballs kissing?
Feeling nervous?
Suits of armour £800
Credit available
I went to a hypnotist.He was good.I believe I am now the Queen
So where’s my palace?
I don’t go shopping.I’ve got no money.
So I might steal yours.
Thanks
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Second childhood
He got divorced as he could not bear Lynn
He could not get free to roam
He was such a rotter,damn
Some flew,Hugh trekked
Could you cope in Argon?
He stole Joanna’s berg.
He leads her by the knows
He was too loose for her.
I envy Enna.
The hamster,damn..
He kept his head in Bury.
And as glass goes, he went.
He’s done Dee already
Don’t tell Aviv.
How about we go Haifa?
I will not love a man till I can sail to Gaza without asking ,Is Raoul in?
Who is Ray ‘ell?
Don’t Bask all night, we can’t leave Kat alone here.
Oh,my pyre knees.
Why not dun caster?
It’s Hull in here.
My clothes were chic long ago
The lost angels knees
He tried he could not Do it right
Like Leonard Cohen? Don’t we all?
I just can’t fill a delph here and is inium there?
She ate butter in cups
Yeah, she chewed her lip nervously in Amsterdam
You’re daffy ,Della
What is the plural of my lover?
To a lover
From a lover
In a lover
Out a lover
Get a lover
Ditch a lover
What another?
Not an other!
This is getting out of hand some ,what?
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Mary meets Tom
Mary was getting dressed on a wet October morning.The cycling shorts she had never worn alone made a warm extra layer under her green cotton trousers.On top she wore a red tunic and also some green plastic earrings were glued to her little pink ears
She saw Annie who had just rung the new door bell
My goodness,Mary, you look different.Where on earth did you get those earrings? she said enviouslyy
I made them, myself out of the tops of those plastic milk containers from the supermarket.
I say,you’re not that poor are you?Anne asked her kindly
It’s not what is real,it’s how you feel,
Mary replied poetically as she sometimes enjoyed a bit of fun and teasing a friend gently.
No,said Annie it’s It’s not what you feel,it’s what is real.
And how do we know what is real? Mary asked her with deep curiosity her eyes glowing in a deep shade of teal blue.
Well,I know you had a reasonably good job so you must have more than just your state pension.You may be giving more than a tithe to Charity.Is that wise?
No,Mary cried,but I want to…I like to do it.
Oh,dear,Annie said.By the way you will need a coat, it’s much colder.I hope you’ve not given all your coats to Oxfam like Stan once did with his shoes.
Thanks,Mary smiled with her voice.I still have twenty two coats of all colours,A bit like Joseph in the Bible.
At the bus stop Mary met Tom who lived round the corner in a semi detached villa with a an extension,conservatory and downstairs shower room.He had fallen over again and bruised his face but still looked quite handsome with his dark hair and Irish eyes.
Maybe you need to pick up your feet more,Mary whispered to him .
What a strange expression that is,.I wonder who invented it.It’s amazing how wise our ancestors were.They invented writing and cooking and philosophy.We are going backwards.
Thus Mary passed her day,talking to friends and musing on the meaning of words and sentences. and making herself jewellery from mundane objects she noticed on her walks.Not to mention cleaning the loo and putting all her old Xmas cards into bags for recycling.
Since from the natural numbers 1,2,3,4,…… we can get to the strange transcendental numbers pi and e and the fact that there are different orders of infinity does that prove God exists ?she asked Tom plaintively.
Well,not prove,but suggest, she qualified her theory
I don’t know what you are on about,hinny,he responded.
Nobody ever saw pi in a burning bush although I have seen pies burn in a halogen oven more than twice
That is a totally different order of reality,she told him sweetly.
Wow,Mary, many men don’t like extremely clever women you know.
Which men are those ? she asked wonderingly, as her peaches and cream complexion glowed with health and her eyes peeped out like a kitten’s when it just woke up
I don’t mind myself,he said,I like smart women
.it’s possible men need to feel superior otherwise they lose their confidence. and then they are in big trouble.But what about women’s confidence……Tom reflected further.
Maybe women don’t need confidence so desperately much,Mary sighed.
They looked at each other and smiled.The sun came out and the trees were glowing in red and gold as the bus came down the hill looking like some chariot from a myth as the sun hit the windows at an obtuse angle.
Some people with whom Mary had taught with were very confident even when all their students failed and their books were never published.So confidence must be misleading as many brilliant or creative people have none at all.Except Picasso!
He had both creativity and confidence and a genius forbending space to his will
But why, say all of us?
“The heart has its reasons ” Pascal
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My sister did this for me
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A barrier
I have a patio with 2 steps into the garden between shrubs so I have put some tubs of shrubs and a clothes airer, there not to mention some plastic buckets and a broom..So no human being can easily go down there.I can’t unless I have my sister here or a friend
If the dogs come in then they will have to go out wherever they got in or be air lifted out.
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Stan spies on Mary
-
Mary was just running out of the front door when she realised she had not combed her hair.She looked around and found a small brush labelled,”For nubuck and suede shoes”.Peering into the old mirror she ran it though her gold and silver hair,powdered her nose with her Estee Lauder natural beige foundation in powder form and slapped some coral lipstick on with haste.. and accuracy.
Right,that’s it,she thought.Enough to show willing.
She met her old friend Maureen at the bus stop.
Have you been seeing Joel again? Maureen asked naughtily.
No,I’ll be damned if I see him again,Mary said shyly.He told me he was living alone in a large house up the hill, then I met him with his wife.Who was he trying to fool?
Maybe he hoped you would not notice?
Not notice what,her wedding ring?
Luckily the bus came down the road and stopped beside them.They jumped on and ran to the back. for a gab.
Are you going shopping? Maureen asked.
No,I am going to take some photos of the jazz band playing on the pavement by the bank… but I told Stan I was going to the pharmacy to buy some Vaseline….
Why,does he not like you taking photos?
Not when an old boyfriend of mine is in the band.
Exactly how old is the boyfriend?
About 69 I guess.
Well he’s not that old!
He is an ex I should have said.I knew him in primary school and used to ride his tricycle.He was my first love.We were only 5 years old.I think it was his red curls and the tricycle that attracted me… but we split up when we were 6.
Surely Stan would not be jealous;it is 63 years ago,
And to me it was like last year!Well. you know time does not exist in the Unconscious.
How wonderful.
Yes and no.Good memories can be there but also pain can seem as if it just happened even when it is from 50 years ago.
Have you had a lot of men admiring you,dear?
How would I know?There could be thousands if they were too shy to speak.
You know what I mean!
Not so many.. I had my second when we were 10.He had golden hair and long eye lashes and lots of games in boxes.He was very sweet but we were to young to be engaged so I decided to give men up and study mathematics instead as that has its own icy beauty…
Wel,,nice meeting you.Have you dyed your hair;it’s got brown streaks.
Oh,dear,Mary thought.Is it shoe polish? But who polishes suede shoes nowadays?
Stan was following Mary on his Face Bike.He was watching her from behind the bike racks in front of the HSBC Bank…
Mary had had many bikes in her life.. what would a fortune teller make of that,he asked himself.
Still,she had no idea Stan was nearby as she wandered nonchalantly along the grey pavement in her Rosella dress and Gabor suede Mary Janes..
Now then, where shall I go to take the photos,she thought…maybe I’ll sit outside this Coffee Shop and pretend to feel faint if anyone asks me to buy coffee…
she opened her bag and took out her Kindle Paperwhite… she was reading,
Creative Imagery and Healing… and also Cars and Peace by Leo Wholeshaw.. a futuristic novel set in North London.In the first chapter a grandmother has been beheaded in North London.
That’s a bit far fetched,Mary had thought when she read it but in fact Wholeshaw had been right on the ball when he wrote his e book and self published it on Cramuzon for £3.89…
I wonder if I’d like to write a novel, Mary mused… just then she saw Stan on the other side of the road talking to a blonde bombshell dressed all in pink.
I see,she thought.He didn’t know I’d be here as the pharmacy is half a mile away.
Who is watching whom?Well.the morals be lacking but my grammar is incorrect, damn it!
And so swear of us
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Writing is a craft
24 Quotes About Creativity and Creative People
“Most people won’t realize that writing is a craft. You have to take your apprenticeship in it like anything else” (Katherine Anne Porter).
Do visit David’s inspiring blog
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No apology for dog entry into my garden but a verbal attack into the bargain
Last Thursday I got up at 2 am to pee.I’ve had vertigo for a while.I fell and hit the back of my head on the corner at the junction of two walls.I didn’t realise how bruised it was till I went to bed the next night.Then at 6 am I had an attack of variant angina.Luckily I had my bag near me
These events happened after my neighbour came to my door as her dogs were in my garden. actually they came into the house.They have 6 dogs,2 are living in a shed.These two have been here before and I didn’t mind as they are big but friendly ;but she came round and yelled at me saying my fence is not strong enough.Why do people with 4 adult kids want 6 dogs in a suburban street?
I am thinking of building a wall. with snipers on it.The Cold War lives again
The irony is that my end fence is actually in their garden which is L shaped.I have no access to it from here as there is a shed and a compost heap.My garden is very narrow as it is in a terrace with no side access but it is long [120 feet]
I am afraid to go down there now alone as my vision and my legs are such I might fall… of course the dogs might help me if they found me but otherwise when I’ve been ill and not gone out for weeks noone has rung my bell and asked if I am ok
I apparently turned white and looked as if Imight faint.She then said she didn’t like to leave me like that… did she come back to check?NO
She knew her husband would be angry at her
Then I had the dangerous night
As I am still suffering from the bruising to the back of my head and the vertigo is worse I’ve been recommended not to use my brain much for a while.
So I must stop writing .
Meanwhile I am wondering whether to buy a lot of boulders to put all across the end of my garden and some dog repellent.I am not happy for someone who insults me and attacks me to come through my home and then walk two muddy footed dogs through.
All the dogs are pedigree.I wonder if they are breeding them.;they often get very close to the boundaries of the law… like taking water for their pool fro a fire hydrant
Any ideas for keeping dogs out.A new fence must be built from their side.Suppose they get a St Bernard dog.Must I then provide an even higher fence?
Some dogs get under fences of course.
Any ideas welcome
I am regarded by my other neighbours as a kind, helpful and caring person.But may be that is a mistake.I should look belligerent and buy a nasty looking fierce dog which frightens everyone.
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He moved
He said he wanted a battery for his hen!I thought it was clockwork.
The coast of England has been so battered by the ocean it is leaving for a Shelter
.Is it one of those at Blackpool on the Prom?
You guessed!
A battery operated food whisk was unknown in Tudor times.This info is brought to you by Raatchi and Paatchi.Don’t ask why.
Why not?
He’s been watching the TV all day.What does he think it is going to do? Mate with my laptop or apply for citizenship? Go out for a ramble? Emigrate? Shout, oh Exit!
I am cooking my sinner tonight.I reckon I should throw him in the fire.
To think Joan of Arc was only 19 when she was killed…. and I’ve lived here for 48 years.
I’d love a dead duck tonight
We don’t cook live ones
Do you curry them?
They are too small to carry me.
Suppose all the ducks in London got together and caught Doris Swanson
Why?
They’d cook her for tea.
Is she transgender
Yes, he is!
Make him deliver a joke or otherwise the post
The letters boxed
Did they knock him out?
How does one tell?
He would lie on the ground and not move.
Shall I shoot him?
Why?
He moved!
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We need to find a cure for social death
https://theconversation.com/why-we-need-to-find-a-cure-for-social-death-59997
“These are the people who have died before they’re physically dead. Physical death, the degradation and eventual cessation of your ability to function as a body, comes later. Social death is the degradation and eventual cessation of your ability to function as a social being. It happens when you are set apart from the rest of humanity.
It happens when your legal protection and autonomy is profoundly impaired and you have almost no way of defending yourself. Your sense of belonging to a group, culture or place fades and eventually disappears under the pressure of your circumstances, while your roles in life, such as those associated with employment, family and community, are also broken.
Your inter-generational relationships along with your spiritual faith and hope diminish while your physical condition deteriorates. Most importantly, you have lost all meaningful social relationships and are considered valueless in the eyes of society. It is a reality faced by many experiencing profound poverty, chronic illness, homelessness, advanced dementia and forced migration. And by its very nature, it is a reality which is widely ignored.”
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The fence is not accessible to me
In a household large live twelve live beings
Six are human, six are cats and dogs
So in my garden now what am I seeing?
Death to hedgehogs, worms and tiny frogs
The Chinese dogs so strong and buoyant roam
Across my garden where they seek my touch
Alas they don’t respond to , please go home
As my garden is so deep and rich
Apparently it is my fault that they get in
I should erect new fence or build a wall
I’d better suit St Bernard’s from Berlin
I wonder if three metres high ends brawls?
The fence is not accessible to me
If I should die please tell the BBC
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In the old shed, the twigs of hawthorn rot
In the little shed, lost twigs of hawthorn rot
The hedgehogs and the slow worm are red hot
The sun has dried the planks , the wood is cracked
And by a thunderstorm it’s now been smacked
Hidden, hard to reach earth’s wildness lives
And from the nearby compost comes more warmth
Ripe with beetles,ants and banned to man
In this small venue, life can carry on
Yet now I see large dogs who run about
They come into this sacred place like louts
The wasps may sting, the ants may irritate
The farmer cocks his gun across the gate.
My little secret garden is destroyed
Then by angry neighbours I’m annoyed
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Silence
Bright sun
Paints a shadow picture
On the white wall
Dried stems
Of Michaelmas daisies
A leaf caught in a cobweb sways
To and fro.
I gaze.
Silence.
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He bent over backwards,alas
With his finger up his nose and his tongue in his cheek it was hard for me to see what kind of man he was.
His lips were pursed.his eyebrows were raised and his ears were bigger than Prince Charles’s.
His jacket had been darned and his trousers had shrunk in the wash.I like that carelesss appearance as long as they are cleanish
He leaned over backwards to help me but alas fell into the duck pond.
Who will I get next from Guardian Jailmates?
I think I might be turning asexual
How about just a flat mate?
Back to the past
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Photos to give you a hint of blue
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Chronic pain and friendship
How to Cope When Chronic Pain Affects Friends, Family & Social Life
“Planning a social life around chronic pain and illness is hugely frustrating for everyone involved and – for those who are not in it for the long haul – can be swift to dissolve friendships. If you’ve ever known someone who keeps on saying that they want to catch up but never commits, or a friend who is constantly cancelling on you at the last minute, you know how frustrating that flakiness is.
Yet in our ever-erratic, unpredictable illness, our chronic pain can make us mimic that flaky friend to perfection. “On the one hand, we don’t want to over-commit to others and then have to cancel. On the other hand, we don’t want to unnecessarily isolate ourselves too much,” says patient, advocate and author of How to Be Sick: A Buddhist-Inspired Guide
How to Be Sick: A Buddhist-Inspired Guide for the Chronically Ill and Their Caregivers, Toni Bernhard.
How my heart speaks 