Your book of poems arrived today and I sat down immediately and read them, then
read them again. I sobbed - from joy, from our connection, remembering how long
I’ve loved you - that would be the first time I sat in your class at TJC and you
guided me through a guided meditation and I became a deer running along a stream
in the thick woods - where I felt so safe after such a long time of traumatic
bio family drama and changing colleges in my attempt to please everyone but
myself. TJC was for me, at last.

I can still put myself directly into that guided meditation, your soothing voice
allowing me to drift from my ego and become that deer who eventually quit
running, paused and stretched out in the soft grass beside the stream and I, as
the deer, moved even deeper into meditation - far, far away from myself, the
room we were in, eventually even the vibration of your voice. I will never
forget that, Barbara, and I go there still before I write to calm down and let
the truth and rhythm of my feelings flood into me like the sounds of that stream
into the ears of me, the deer.

Luke and I recently moved and we are just a few blocks from a
Unitarian Church and on odd and even numbers, I can’t figure out the schedule,
the chimes ring the hour and yesterday, Sunday, for the first time the organ
chimes played “Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling” and again I sobbed,
thinking of my own dead mother and of the movie “A Trip to Bountiful” with
Geraldine Page. For some reason I have to tell you that, Barbara. And tell you also that

You are loved.

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