Tag: peace

Folding Cranes

.Reading time 3 minutes.

Folding Japanese origami peace cranes is one of my early childhood memories. As as small girl, I watched my mother’s quick and nimble fingers magically fold and crease the single sheet of square paper with a graceful ease that mystified me. In the time that it took me to make one crane, she would have finished several of them, and then she’d laugh with amusement at my little-girl cocktail of envy, frustration, astonishment and admiration. We gave our carefully folded cranes away to friends and neighbors, and to strangers at peace rallies.

Now I am older than my mother was then, and perhaps I’ve made hundreds of peace cranes throughout my life, inspired in part by my mother and in part by the story of Sadako Sasaki—the young girl who folded paper cranes in the hope that her wish to be healed from leukemia would be granted. Sadly, in the aftermath of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima in World War II, Sadako died at the age of 12 but her wish for healing and peace symbolized in the act of folding paper cranes lives on. Every year school children from all over Japan, and people from all around the world, make thousands of cranes and hang them up at the children’s peace monument in Hiroshima.

In this time where the world seems to be teetering on edge and everyone seems to be running on empty, I asked myself what I can do to create more peace—for myself and for others. Folding paper cranes is something simple that I know how to do. And an ancient Japanese legend says that if you make one thousand cranes your wish will come true… so I decided to make one thousand cranes for peace. Starting just last month, I have only made 23 cranes so far and have another 977 cranes to go, but I am not concerned about how long it will take. I am folding them one by one and giving them away as I fold them, one by one. Each fold and crease, each crane, and each exchange—is one small moment of peace-making and one small moment of peace itself. The wish becomes reality already—in the folding, in the giving, in the choosing to continue one fold after another fold, one crane after another crane, one day after another… night. Journey and horizon become one prayer, one act of love, one choice for peace, one way of being, one path.

And when I have folded the 1,000th crane maybe I will start on another thousand or on some other peace project… but it doesn’t really matter because in the choosing now, in the folding and creasing and loving now, peace is already my world.

A Prayer for the New Year

.Reading time 1 minute.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu
may all beings be peaceful
may all beings be happy
may all beings be safe
may all beings awaken to the light of their true nature
may all beings be free

(a Buddhist mantra for metta, loving-kindness, meditation)

Seeing the many images and videos of the Buddhist monks with Aloka, the peace dog, walking 2,300 miles for peace reminded me of the above mantra. Indeed, may we all walk a path of peace in the ritual of our day to day lives—in how we show up for ourselves and for others. Peace, not contained by religion nor political persuasion, is available to all of us.

may you be peaceful
may you be happy
may you be safe
may you awaken to the light of your true nature
may you be free
💛

*the photo above is the first sunrise of 2026

Seréin

.Reading time less than 1 minute.

here
and
now
sailing this river
with you
silence is serene
like
the warm sun traveling over my skin
like silk
and the darkness is sanctuary
is peace
is free from every day cataclysm
from the deluge of chaos and turmoil
here
with you
this river is wide and deep and gold
and sailing underneath a canopy of sparkling stars
i find myself
home
in your enveloping arms
home
in your everywhere love

now
the sun is rising
in your eyes

a cup of coffee

.Reading time 1 minute.

steaming bright and bold
i am black bitter coffee
with the sun, rising

In this crazy world of ours… I want to be peace and to be love—and a little bit of whimsy. Anything else simply hurts too much. Aren’t we all beyond tired of the violence by now? Exhausted, really. We’ve seen world wars traumatize generations and we’ve watched empires rise and fall like storm systems shifting across the globe.
Where does it all come from? I do not understand its fuel nor this pathology of self-destruction. I am not sold on a superficial history defined by battles between so-called heroes and villains, saviors and sinners, the haves and the have-nots, and the blessed and the damned. All life is sacred. We are all worthy and beautiful.

I sit in the morning. Groggy, with recalled terrors from yesterday’s news—these persistent, ongoing nightmares of abductions, starvation, theft, genocide… and the suffering of children. Mania of distorted powers. And i try to just breathe and sip my hot, black coffee. We are steaming. With the sun, we rise again for a new day.

an invitation

.Reading time less than 1 minute.

somewhere
there is an ocean of beyond
an ocean beyond good & bad
beyond light & dark and love & hate
and black & white
beyond, there is an ocean of rising and falling
breathing
in and out
an inhale and an exhale threaded, soft, and
connected
together
inseparable actually, and
one

this ocean of beyond is beautiful—wide and deep and infinite
will you meet me there?

Whoever you are and wherever you are, I hope that your path and your days are grounded in peace. I hope you find in the outer world around you, beauty that brings solace to your heart… and in your heart, an inexhaustible wellspring of joy.

Children of Shimá

.Reading time 1 minute.

Now, more than ever.

Ever since I was little, I craved the guidance, mentorship, and leadership of women—of wise, old and beautiful women. As a little girl, I loved my grandmother’s hands. She would complain to me about her “ugly old-age spots,” but her wrinkled and spotted hands were to me, beautiful. They held mine warmly, with love and kindness. They gave me the world’s best chocolate-chip cookies, miniature shoes her mother had collected, and hugs.

And now, more than ever, I crave the kindness, wisdom, love and leadership—of women. I crave a world in which old women, with their soft, worn, and strong bodies of age are acknowledged for their beauty and for their power. I crave a world where grandmothers are government.

I am grateful to my mother, my grandmothers, and their mothers… to the many wise women teachers I’ve had… and to shimá (“my mother” in Navajo, implying both a personal and collective mother). The tremendous hardships they faced in life did not diminish their love and capacity to give, but deepened it. May I walk bravely in their footsteps…

now, more than ever.

in light of the shadows

.Reading time less than 1 minute.

while the world carries on
with its wars
waging in the hearts and minds of legions
and for eons
without, seemingly, an end
while the sun toils on and the moon weeps
for all our innocents buried underneath the trees
i want to stay here softly
in the darkness and in the silent night
i want still
in light of the shadows
this dance

imagine

.Reading time 2 minutes.

angels and demons
dance together in my dreams
no heaven no hell

I wrote the above haiku and reflection below about two and a half years ago. With the recent outbreak of war between Israel and Hamas, I thought it apropos to share this again. May a world of peace for everyone dawn—pink and soft light over the horizon of darkness.

From Aristotle to Einstein, philosophers, artists and poets over the ages have spoken about the power of imagination. In some regards, it is lamentable that we often perceive knowledge as an accumulation of so-called objective “facts”, and imagination as a kind of unreal world of dreams. But the creation of anything and everything always starts with the imagination. So what then actually, is imagination? Is it not the source of everything?

Since its creation in 1971 by John Lennon and Yoko Ono, the famous song “Imagine” has been invoked worldwide in a shared desire for humanity to transcend differences and to live “life in peace”. You may say that imagining world peace has not created it; however, in the act of imagination, in stating and singing and sharing the dream, are we not creating the real experience of peace within our own hearts and together with others? When we imagine peace, we experience it. Likewise, when we imagine violence, we experience it. What we imagine, we experience. What we imagine, we become.

We are all dreamers—it is our birthright and our true nature. So why not dance and dream together, for a world of peace? We are our dreams. May they be light.

burn

.Reading time less than 1 minute.


can i burn ?
candleflame—like in the dark
when these wounds are much
too much
and the horizon
has all but disappeared
can i burn , please ?
softly
candelflame—like
in the dark

pockets

.Reading time 2 minutes.
hell in one pocket
and heaven in the other
the choice is all mine
i claim love and golden light
This here today is heaven!

(tanka 5-7-5-7-7)

A wise, old, loincloth-donning and cave-dwelling yogi in the northwestern state of Rajasthan, India once told a little girl a secret. “Heaven and hell” he explained, “are in my pockets!” Perhaps the eleven-year-old girl didn’t quite understand. I imagine she must have looked at him with a quizzical expression on her face. “Here!” he exclaimed. He had a very dynamic way of speaking and of being. Occasionally while walking on a hiking trail, he’d suddenly jump up in the air and yell, “Boom! Life is great!” and resume along the path light-footed and seemingly as light-hearted as can be.
Looking seriously at the little girl, her sister and her parents, Yogi continued. “Look, I want heaven? I take it out of my left pocket. I want hell? I take it out of my right pocket. I can have both! Anytime, I just take heaven or I just take hell out of my pockets!”

My eleven-year-old self did not understand Yogi’s story back then. But like a lucky charm or talisman in my pocket, it has given my life depth and texture—a sense of nuanced calm and komorebi*.
What do you carry in your pockets?

*komorebi: a Japanese word for sunlight shining through the trees; scattered or dappled sunlight; light filtering through the trees