Labels: Life, photography, signs of spring

Today Buddha (the dog) and I walked around the nearby pond in the 50+ degree warmth that we knew would come to visit someday soon if we could just hang in there.

A red-tailed hawk flew circles overhead. I had Buddha's leash in one hand and a blue plastic bag of Buddha poop in the other. Buddha always poops at a point as far away as possible from the nearest trash can so that I can have plenty of time to work on my aversion to bodily waste products. That's why he's the Buddha. He's a teacher.

The blond grasses that lined either side of the trail reminded me of the wet spring we had last year. All of the moisture that came then allowed the plants to grow taller than is typical of most years. I remember walking through this park last spring and feeling like I was in a jungle as I walked through grass taller than me.

That was the interesting time of my life when my shoulders wouldn't move at all. I love to walk and hike, but even walking is less fun when arms can't swing.

But now my shoulders move much better, the dried yellow stems are preparing to give way for young green shoots, and it just feels really good to be alive to see the beauty of hawk-flight and to feel the warmth of a bag of do-do.

Labels: Buddha, Lessons in Poo, photography

Lying under an acacia tree [in East Africa] with the sounds of dawn around me, I realized ... that the construction of an airplane, for instance, is simple when compared to the evolutionary achievement of a bird; that airplanes depend on an advanced civilization; and that where civilization is most advanced, few birds exit. I realized that if I had to choose, I would rather have birds than airplanes ... Civilization is progress and aviation a boon only if life improves because of them ... [T]he final answer will be given not by our amassment of knowledge, or by the discoveries of our science, or by the speed of our aircraft, but by the effect our civilized activities as a whole have upon the quality of our planet's life -- the life of plants and animals as well as that of man.

Charles Lindbergh,
"Is Civilization Progress?"
Reader's Digest, 1964

Labels: birds, photography

AP Photo

Scientists are priming two spacecraft to slam into the moon's South Pole to see if the lunar double whammy reveals hidden water ice.

"I think that people are apprehensive about it because it seems violent or crude, but it's very economical," said Tony Colaprete, the principal investigator for the mission at NASA's Ames Research Center in Moffett Field, Calif.

As long as it's economical...

Labels: Moon, priorities

Tonight was my last Spanish class of this session. For fourteen weeks, I've studied until my brain hurt and I've sweated profusely in class as el profesor grilled us over and over. This learning a new language is hard! Especially at my advanced age! Fourteen weeks and I still can only pick out a few words when I listen to Spanish radio. But that's more than I could do before!

I never want to hear anyone say "people who come to the U.S. should just learn to speak English" again. Move to a foreign country in order to feed your family, then work your butt off at minimum wage before you tell me what someone in that position ought to be doing.

I've got an easy life - so far - and this learning a new language stuff takes time, money and lots of work. I can't imagine trying to do it under different circumstances, although maybe I'd be more motivated if I couldn't understand most of the people around me.

Because of a great out-of-town opportunity I have coming up and because of a great out-of-body experience under the knife I'll be undergoing in a month, I'm on espanol sabbatical for the next couple of months. I hope I don't get too rusty...

Labels: espanol

From The Onion:


Diebold Accidentally Leaks Results Of 2008 Election Early


(Thanks to Ward)

Labels: 2008 elections

I just visited a blog that had a link which allowed me to find out what kind of donut I am. I was curious, so I took the test. But I had to lie since I can't remember the last donut I ever ate and I've never had a Krispy Kreme donut in my life. It's not much fun to answer questions that are totally irrelevant to me.

So I checked out the "What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?" test. Now I don't have to worry about that part of my life - it's all taken care of - and I can just blather on until the time comes to give my last great and (not) profound line:

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"What we know is not much. What we don't know is enormous."

Labels: oy

A: I can't seem to get away from them either of them this month.

A friend emailed me yesterday to acknowledge my posts on Paul Robeson.

I had mentioned that Robeson revered Stalin and was a recipient of the Stalin Peace Prize. My friend alerted me to the numbers of people that were killed by Stalin: between 20 and 60 million.

In my zest to write about a man who rose to levels I have not ever visited myself, with odds against him that I have never experienced, I didn't give the whole picture. At the time, I didn't want to get into politics, Stalin, Communism. I can't condone the killing of 20 to 60 million people. By Stalin or by OUR government. It's hard for me to understand how Robeson could love such a man.

But I didn't walk in Robeson's shoes. I don't know what I would be like if I was born in 1898 as a black person whose father had been a slave. I can't imagine a world where I couldn't feel like a whole human being in my own country. Did Robeson know what was up with Stalin? I'm not able to see through Robeson's eyes, but I'm sure that if I could, I would see life very differently from what I see now while living in this white suburb.

And what would lead a man to kill millions of people? I found this:

Rarely seeing his family and drinking heavily, [Stalin's father] often beat his wife and small son. One of Stalin's friends from childhood, Ioseb Iremashvili, felt that the beatings by Stalin's father gave him the hatred of authority. He also said that anyone with power over others reminded Stalin of his father's cruelty Ioseb Iremashvili, wrote: "Those undeserved and fearful beatings made the boy as hard and heartless as his father." The same friend also wrote that he never saw him cry. In his contention, [Stalin's father] taught him to hate people.

In my book, there's no excuse to kill millions of people, but obviously, that's MY book and it's not published yet. Stalin didn't read it. And neither have many other presidents and dictators.

I'm still working on the parts of my book where I rise against all odds to be the third person of my race to attend a certain college; where I will sing with a voice of deep, rich perfection; where I will bring people together for equality. And the chapters on making my country the second largest industrialized nation and helping to defeat Nazi Germany??? Those probably won't happen for me...

So, I'm thankful for this information from my friend. I learned a lot. I admire my friend's knowledge - she knows more about history than 99% of the people walking this earth. And she has much concern about where this ride is going. I do, also. And if I could change it all - no, if I could change a lot of it - I would in a heartbeat.

But I can't, so I'm working on stopping the war within me. It seems like that's a beginning...

Labels: I do not know, Paul Robeson, Stalin

Labels: Life, Mark Morford, photography

Ummmm... no....

I can't believe I've done it three times now.

Don't tell my mom. She'd never understand.

We saw U2 3D for the third time tonight.

It was different, though, because it is no longer at an IMAX theater. It is now in a couple of regular theaters around town. Not the same. Since we are recyclers, we brought along our 3D glasses from the other place. They didn't even work at this theater, so something was way different.

This time around, it was like watching a really good 3D movie of an amazing concert. Last time, I WAS the concert.

I was farther away from the action tonight. The Edge's sweat didn't fling onto me. Bono didn't touch me. Very sad...

But it was still WONDERFUL!

If you plan to see it, I hope that it's showing in an IMAX theater near you.

When I lost my U2 3D virginity.

The Second Time - As Good as the First.





Yahweh

Take these shoes
Click clacking down some dead end street
Take these shoes
And make them fit
Take this shirt
Polyester white trash made in nowhere
Take this shirt
And make it clean, clean
Take this soul
Stranded in some skin and bones
Take this soul
And make it sing

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Take these hands
Teach them what to carry
Take these hands
Don't make a fist
Take this mouth
So quick to criticize
Take this mouth
Give it a kiss

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?

Take this city
A city should be shining on a hill
Take this city
If it be your will
What no man can own, no man can take
Take this heart
Take this heart
Take this heart
And make it break

Labels: U2 3D, Yahweh

The northern flickers have come back and started their call in the past few days. And little tweety birds have just begun to sing in the early mornings. I still see winter when I look out, but the birds must sense something that I don't. So I try to tune into small changes in things and imagine stirrings in the earth. Maybe the worms are starting to wake up just a little. And sleeping plants may be running some energy.

I think important work is being done when the earth lies quiet during this time. I don't really believe that it is dormant, though. It is doing inner work that provides for the outer life that we will soon see. Do you think it's the same with our lives? That there needs to be a time of what looks like dormancy when a lot of work is going on underground? Work that keeps us in balance and manifests as the life we see out in the world?

Labels: signs of spring

Sometimes Saintly Nick has posted a beautiful tribute to Paul Robeson.

When you pop over there, check out the video, Trying to Be Paul Robeson.

It gave me goosebumps.

But then

Right now

I'm enchanted by

Robeson.

Labels: Paul Robeson

Labels: Botanic Gardens, Paul Robeson, peace, photography

... with the tens of millions all over the world who see in peace our most sacred responsibility. - Paul Robeson

In a recent comment on this blog, Sometimes Saintly Nick mentioned Paul Robeson and his concert at the Peace Arch on the U.S.-Canadian Border in 1952. Nick said that our government had revoked Robeson's passport and wouldn't allow him out of the country, so Robeson sang at the border - where an audience of 40,000 people gathered. I didn't know anything about Paul Robeson, but my ears perked up at this story.

Now I've been reading about this incredible man and listening to recordings of his voice. He was a tall man, and his voice sounds like it came from every cell of his body. Deep, rich, full, alive. He was the first to bring spirituals to the concert stage.

Here's a little taste of what he was like:




Robeson's father was a slave. His mother came from an abolitionist Quaker family. Paul (April 9, 1898 - January 23, 1976) was only the third black man to attend Rutgers. He was a singer, actor, athlete, civil rights activist, and Stalin Peace Prize laureate. I read that he could sing and converse in twenty languages. In 1950, his passport was revoked because our government didn't want him talking to people abroad about the racist conditions in our country.

Robeson worked tirelessly to not only educate the world about Africa but also to help free that continent from colonialist exploitation. He also spent a lot of time in Russia. He had a deep love and respect for Joseph Stalin. He admitted to being a socialist and was accused of being communist. In the 1950's, all of his wonderful recordings and films were taken out of circulation. His movies were never seen on American television until after his death.

Maybe you already know all about Paul Robeson. Maybe I'm the last to know. Reading about all that he did against great odds inspires me to consider going beyond my perceived limits.

Thanks Nick!

Labels: inspiration, Paul Robeson

It's soooo windy here today! I can't say that I enjoy going outside to do things when wind beats me from all directions. Saturday, while standing out in wind like this with our 3' by 5' banner, we about sailed away a couple of times.

BUT, the good thing about wind is that it stirs up the polluted sky pot. Friday, the skies in Denver were all soupy, but now we've sent THAT air off to someone else. And we have air from who-knows-where??? Sharing is a good thing, I guess.

My thoughts are with those who have suffered damage and injury from the winds of tornadoes recently...

Much to do today, so all I have to offer is this photo I took at the Botanic Gardens the other day and a song about the wind.

Labels: Donovan, photography, wind

Do you ever do this?

Do you ever go to a blog and see what blogs are listed under "Friends" or "Interesting blogs" or whatever they call them?

Then do you pick out a blog name that you find interesting on the list and go visit it?

Then do you pick out a blog name on THAT blog that you find interesting and go visit IT?

And then do you realize that you've just spent an hour of time in someone else's head when you could've been in your own head studying Spanish or doing something else that is listed on your "To Do" list?

Come on... I KNOW I'm not the only one that does this.

But now all I know is that a certain woman has left her husband; a forgetful man buys his Valentine's Day present for his wife at the last minute when nothing good is left to choose from; and all kinds of people have taken trips to Florida (which sounds like a wonderful idea on this cold, gloomy day). Will that information appease my Spanish teacher when he calls on me?

And to think that I used to make fun of my mom for getting all caught up in her "Story" (a.k.a. As the World Turns, which I just found out is still showing after almost 51 years).



I love these leaves. I love that some of them are "empty" and only a "frame" is there to let you know a leaf used to live there. Kind of reminds me of my head right now. Time to fill it up with Spanish grammar.

Labels: blogs, photography, time

Labels: Hafiz

Read complete article here.

Labels: kindness, Wheelchairs for Iraqi Kids

Behold the product of passion in these monumental stone sculptures from Chapungu Sculpture Park in Harare, Zimbabwe. ...Stone works tell stories, record history, honor, mourn and celebrate.

The sculptures depict matters close to the hearts of three generations of Shona artists -- their cultural traditions, religious beliefs, social concerns and everyday life. These voices in stone convey personal, yet timeless and universal, experiences and emotions.

Not only do the Chapungu sculptures represent superior artistic achievement, they also demonstrate how quickly an art movement can move forward. It is only within the last 50 years that the sculpture movement in Zimbabwe has ascended to the forefront of the international contemporary sculpture movement. - Denver Botanic Gardens

Labels: beauty, Botanic Gardens, Chapungu, photography

When I was the chair of a peace & justice group, I took on the job of cleaning out the group's storage cabinet. Underneath piles of out-dated booklets, I found a PLETHORA (that word feels so good rolling off my tongue) of peace bumper stickers just waiting to be adopted by someone (me).

So now, on my day-timer, there lives a beautiful "Create Peace" sticker.

I often hear that the Inuit have a gazillion words for "snow". The Greeks have many words for "love". I think that we need a lot more words for "peace". Kinda like all the many types of Bubba Gump Shrimp in Forrest Gump ("You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. Dey's uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried...")

We could have words for:

• the kind of peace that comes with an absence of war
• the kind of peace that comes with clear and kind thoughts
• the kind of peace that comes with a beautiful sunset
• the kind of peace that comes with negotiation
• the kind of peace that comes from beating others into submission, a.k.a. war (I don't find that to be peaceful at all, but some people would need a word for that)
• the kind of peace that comes when everyone just leaves you alone
• the kind of peace that people feel on Christmas eve - as long as they live in a country without war (see #1)
• the kind of peace that comes with some religious experiences
• the kind of peace that comes when the war stops right here, right now, with me

I'm not sure that there really is more than one kind of true peace, but using different words to communicate what we really mean might make the world, um, more peaceful.

Labels: photography, words for peace

Bush Equates 9/11 Defendants With Nazis

Nuremberg Used As Precedent

The Bush administration has instructed U.S. diplomats abroad to defend its decision to seek the death penalty for six Guantanamo Bay detainees accused in the Sept. 11 terror attacks by recalling the executions of Nazi war criminals after World War II.

A four-page cable sent to U.S. embassies and obtained Tuesday by The Associated Press says that execution as punishment for extreme violations of the laws of war is internationally accepted and points to the 1945-46 International Military Tribunals as an example. Twelve of Adolf Hitler's senior aides were sentenced to death at the trials in Nuremberg, Germany, although not all were executed in the end.

The unclassified cable was sent by the State Department to all U.S. diplomatic missions worldwide late on Monday.

In it, the department advises American diplomats to refer to Nuremberg if asked by foreign governments or media about the legality of capital punishment in the 9/11 cases.

"International Humanitarian Law contemplates the use of the death penalty for serious violations of the laws of war," says the cable, which was written by the office of the department's legal adviser, John Bellinger.

"The most serious war criminals sentenced at Nuremberg were executed for their actions," it said.

Read the rest of the article here.

I don't support the death penalty. I don't wish our prez dead. I just wonder why the person committing war crimes thinks he can kill others for war crimes.

Labels: hypocrisy, war crimes

Sadiq at Inspirations and Creative Thoughts tagged me for a book meme. I'm especially happy about this, because I love books and find it fascinating to hear what others are reading.

Here are the rules

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages)
2. Open the book to page 123
3. Find the 5th Sentence
4. Post the next 3 sentences
5. Tag 5 people.

The first book I saw when I looked at my bookshelf was:

I am That
Talks with Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

I see the same world as you do, but not the same way. There is nothing mysterious about it. Everybody sees the world through the idea he has of himself.

I tag:

Sometimes Saintly Nick
Otowi
Get Your Own
Left of Centrist
A Wayfarer's Journey

Have fun!

Labels: Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

A friend of mine has nine grown children. Her family is Catholic and she and her husband have been social activists for most of their lives because they believe that their faith calls them to do so. They choose to follow the teachings of Jesus.

My friend and her husband have been arrested for trying to stop nuclear testing, they have worked with immigration rights for years, and they have been named citizens of the year for the many things they have done to improve their community.

A couple of days ago, this friend told me that one of her grown daughters has gone, in her words, "to the other side".

I know what it's like to be "on the other side". But my "other side" is the "same side" as my friend's. I have seen the world differently from my family since the day I was born. I was six years old when Kennedy ran against Nixon. My parents were for Nixon. I danced around singing about Kennedy. Of course, I had no idea of anything about the political persuasions of Kennedy or Nixon. Still, little people and dogs are good judges of character and I stand by that 6-year-old's judgment today.

I could not be who I was if I followed in my parents' belief system, but it wasn't fun being different from them. As a teen in the early '70's, I "ruined" Thanksgiving by wanting to wear jeans with a flag that I had embroidered on the pocket (today my parents would probably think that I was very patriotic if I did that - funny how life changes). I really wanted to be the "good girl" that I was taught to be, but I felt that I would die inside if I let go of things that were important to me.

So, I empathize with my friend's daughter who has chosen the way of supporting W and believing in our "War on Terror". It must be really hard to go against the convictions of ten others in your family - especially when some of them are celebrated social activists.

So here we are. We're all doing what we think is right and there is not a thing that anyone can do about that. How else can it be?



Photo by moi, taken at the Botanic Gardens yesterday. No photoshopping. This is the real, cobalt blue beauty that rested there on a beautiful day.

Labels: no other side, photography

Yesterday while standing at our vigil, I fell in love. Some motorists will look us right in the eye, and that moment we share is so beautiful. Even those that won't look at us when sitting right in front of us - well, I've been one of them before. I'm sure that I've been the person who wouldn't look because I had something else on my mind or I was afraid or I disagreed with the other person's message or lifestyle. We all have the same thoughts and feelings, so there is no difference between the motorists that won't look and me.

There we all were together. On the street on a Saturday afternoon, the bright Colorado sun warming us all.

We vigilers stand for peace. And there WAS peace. Right there.

Amazing how it happens!



I can't take credit for the photo above. Larry G. Blackwood gets credit. You can make up your own story about why I chose it for this post.

Labels: Hawkline Photography, Women in Black

Yep! Stayed up late and saw U2 3D AGAIN. It was even better than the first time. I'm in love. I was told that if I go to see the movie a third time (and I just may do so), I will be a certifiable groupie. I have never aspired to that title, but whatever...

If I go again, you're invited to join me, but only if you don't say a word throughout the whole experience. Really. It is a religious experience for me and it is not to be defiled by any talk. I am like that. I bathe in the experience. I am one with it all. Don't bring me back to the theater or the seat beneath me by speaking before the adventure is over.

Last night, I was Bono. I was The Edge. I felt the resistance of the drums as wooden sticks made contact. My belly rumbled bass. I sang along in earnest with the rest of the crowd and felt their sweat. I smelled the stage fog. I felt Bono wipe the tear from my face - most definitely worth the price of admission.

Of course, 3D glasses helped with all of this.

Today, I am preparing to be one with the toilet. I started off with a bang when I decided that I would clean everything around here before the surgery that I have scheduled for March, but somehow over time, I forgot about my mission. I am back on it today. I will put on my 3D glasses and I will be the toilet. I will be the cleanser wiping away the dirt and grime (which is also me). I will travel through the inner jungles of cabinets and closets and send away all that I don't need. I will be a bathroom groupie.

This is for you. I'll join you when I'm done with my bathroom experience.

Labels: U2 3D

This is what I like about blogging:

Blogging helps me to be more aware of life. Actually, that happens anytime I write. As Natalie Goldberg says, writing is "a way to help you penetrate your life and become sane." I am hanging on to hope that I will, at some point, become sane through this! But not sane in the usual way Americans look at sanity... That's too insane!

Blogging has given me new friends. That's really the best part. The people who read my blog know how I think and what I value. And I know the same about my blogger friends. I have read blogs of people who had terminal illnesses and are now no longer with us. What a gift to share such important times! I have met fellow bloggers in "real" life, and it was like just meeting up with an old friend.

Blogging has been a way that I can share my voice with the world. When I first started this blog, it was important to me that people in other countries know that Americans don't all support the actions of our prez. That others know many of us feel pain knowing that our military is murdering people and decimating other countries. There are many Americans who care and are trying to stop it in many different ways.

And blogging has connected me with people who are doing great work. It's like magic. I once wrote about a man I saw riding his bike backwards through Denver, and POOF!, he contacted me, letting me know that he was riding backwards across America to bring about awareness of AIDS, the growing numbers of homeless, and the need for medical marijuana. Now I've been in touch with Curan through his ride to D.C., and down into Florida. I hope to meet him as he rides backwards back to California.

John Pascuzzi contacted me after I posted his wonderful hang drum video to let me know about another video of his - this one about Ukuleles for Peace. After posting that one, I heard from Paul Moore of Ukuleles for Peace. He is bringing together Israeli and Palestinian children through music. It gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.

So, I'm wondering... I'm on a roll... Do you think if write a lot about the Dalai Lama and post some videos of him, he'll contact me?

Let's see now, who else would I like to hear from???

Labels: Biking Backwards, Caucuses, espanol, just because, Ukuleles for Peace

Sometimes I believe that my breath

is strong enough to break necks

and I could save this sorry planet just by speaking.

Lately I've just been complaining a lot

and haven't done a thing to translate

my empathy into something more productive.

In January,

the streets turned to slush

and homeless men finally obeyed their thirsts

by freezing themselves into the sleet,

but I just kept walking,

gave a nod to their sleeping silhouettes

and pulled my coat closer

like a womb to shield the winter.

We're all searching for warmth here.

The newspapers reek of boys

who cradle guns like new-born babies,

their rusted knuckles giving birth to bullets.

We were all brought into this world

with blood, red and real as a wound

so it's no wonder we're fascinated by bodily fluids,

I'm beginning to understand this obsession

with scalpels and switch blades,

the science of what runs under our skin,

but don't you think it's time for a tourniquet?

Isn't it funny how the writers went on strike

and they brought back American Gladiators?

There is so much hurt in this world

but I'm too tender and tired to feel for every single human.

I'm also tired of doing nothing

like the only people so moved to action

are peace laureates and suicide attempts.

Sometimes everything is just so heavy,

I like to pretend that there's nothing wrong with this city,

though I'm afraid all that plastic, passive logic

might leave me frigid and thoughtless

to everything else I've ever loved.

But I think there might be a solution.

taking small steps towards sainthood

I've got this crazy idea that we could

fight random acts of violence

with random acts of kindness.

For every racial slur you hear,

give a dollar to a homeless man.

For every school shooting or suicide bombing,

smile at a stranger on the street

or the back of a bus-

don't tell me common courtesy

can't be counted as political progress.

For every yard of caution tape,

every dead body breathing a halo of chalk,

tell someone about something

you think is worth fighting for-

spread your cause,

encourage finding faith in something.

For every instance of road rage,

practice patience with a salesclerk

or your wife.

For every gang formed under the belly of a bridge,

introduce yourself to a neighbor,

create a community across

the cold chain links of religion and race.

For any victim of any injustice,

tell someone you love them.

Though these words may not be

worth the weight of a person's life

at least we can give each other hope.

Laugh at the good things.

Laugh at the overwhelming grip to greed and apathy.

Laugh because it's harder to shoot straight when you're giggling.

Maybe we can find peace in ourselves

before we try and translate it

to prayer or protest-

our revolution doesn't have to be so specific,

Live deliberately,

fall in love more often,

speak with conviction.

When we learn to waste our breath with words,

when we learn to unfold the fury from our fists,

we can finally start to make some kind of a difference.

-Sarah Kaplan Gould


Sarah is a junior in high school and a member of the Denver Youth Slam Team. She performed her poem this year at our Third Annual Arvada Martin Luther King Celebration.

Labels: slam poetry, youth and truth

I was contacted by the Hang Drummer, John Pascuzzi, whose video I posted the other day. He wanted to let me know about another video he made in order to help out a man whose project is called Ukuleles for Peace.

From the Ukuleles for Peace site:

For a long time, we have been watching and living the miserable situation between Israel and the Palestinian Arabs in the area. We asked ourselves, how can we contribute to a change of atmosphere? How can we break the distrust between the societies, and how can we--as simple citizens--create more opportunities for Jews and Arabs to meet and be involved with one another in our daily lives?

As Paul [Moore] regularly performs to both Arab and Jewish kids, it gave him an idea: to combine his love for the ukulele (a small and easy to learn 4 string instrument) and his experience with children to create Ukuleles For Peace.

The goal of Ukuleles for Peace is to bring Jewish and Arab children together to play in an orchestra with ukuleles, kazoos and other fun instruments. Paul works with the students once a week in their own schools, and then brings them together for performances. The children sing in Hebrew, Arabic and English. The hope is that playing together will create further opportunities for communal activities, and that parents and members of the communities will get involved in the program.

A very moving video with John Pascuzzi playing a Tuvan Igil (Bet you've never heard of one of these before!):

Labels: hope, Israel, john Pascuzzi, Palestine, Ukuleles for Peace