Heart of Life/Coeur de la vie: The Day After/Le jour d’après

/, Retraites au coeur de la vie/Heart of Life/Coeur de la vie: The Day After/Le jour d’après

Heart of Life/Coeur de la vie: The Day After/Le jour d’après

Evening has fallen almost unnoticed. I was surfing the web, as we say, catching up on the news of the day. Not much of note to report on that front.

Earlier, we gently wrapped up the Heart of Life retreat this morning with a half-day of practice at the Wild Flower Center here in Paris: sitting, chanting, offering plant-candlelight-and-incense, taking hot green tea and coffee with a few cookies, sharing a talk and some questions. Then each went their own way into the cold afternoon, blessed by the pale late-autumn sun.

Thanks to all for your practice this week. For you, we have posted or will post on the website the talks from last night and today (http://wildflowerzen.org/blog-teachings/).

Bernie’s book starts and ends with a reminder of what is the « supreme meal »: living our life fully. A full life is a life that includes everything. It’s life as practice and practice as life. That’s what our practice this week has been about, using the « ingredients » we each have at hand to make the best « meal » possible and then offering it.

How did it go for you? We’d all love to know. Please tell us all about it here: who, what, where, why, when and how!




By | 2018-11-17T19:04:52+01:00 novembre 17th, 2018|La pratique Zen, Retraites au coeur de la vie|4 Comments

About the Author:

Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste. The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.


  1. Isabela 18 novembre 2018 at 23 h 51 min - Reply

    the village where i live in-paris



    first time
    not arriving one hour before

    at my robotic fist
    i take twenty euros to pay attention to the practice,

    in the bus
    i find pénélope aka les frontalières
    (from the association sensorialités multiples and Réseau sur l’Entente de Voix)
    « traumatisme et psychoses »
    that will appear
    in the next
    the attachment
    her mail,
    i write her:
    Good evening Pénélope,

    The attachment has reappeared in my visual fields: star in the eyes.



    at the straight line
    turning left
    at the passage courtois
    i change my glasses into sunglasses,
    — COLD! —
    at the one
    before in front of me:
    thin old woman,

    for the first time
    no visions of you
    i open the door:
    there you are
    — COLD!
    change glasses,

    are ants
    in the extremities of my fingers,
    far away earthquakes

    the crack of close trees falling,

    hot tea
    feels good
    « when did the ants’ nest sand becomes glass? »

    two wheels motor,

    we recall
    our calendars
    since the thermometer
    could be numbered
    — 37°C
    — more!
    « or less »,

    internet black hole,

    — Happy holidays!

    — Foggy?
    — Foggy plateau.

    you take my hand out

    standing for you

    i take a picture of clouds,

    bikes tide,

    — She’s hungry to be a sunset.,

    i hold
    your black and white leopard-shark-boat,

    — How have you met your friend?
    you are
    i follow left

    the chinese restaurant
    a woman gets up
    i look it so narrow woodland,
    you blow me
    i walk in
    two places left
    by the cold
    the door forever opening
    two portuguese men,
    and where
    we telescope
    our galaxies
    early internet
    « … it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you… »
    « … i’d rather dance… » at ipanema
    the same SUN

    you take me for a walk
    the angry inch
    to girls
    at parties

    — Do you sit at home?

    — How is your friend?
    — As fine as ever!

    till nation
    where i leave him a voice message

    the sun on your face
    you recall
    a number
    of the calendar
    that made you lose appetite
    (that’s how i felt it for a moment i lost appetite forever)
    — I’ll keep coming for lightness!
    or satisfied?
    i testify

    you are
    going to
    P (programming language)
    i can look at you
    eclipse glasses,

    on the other side
    two lost calls
    from you
    (all the earthquakes
    i exhale!)
    in india,
    i take the metro
    and we hug tight
    you re-present me
    the holy basil
    (him and her off my tunnel vision),
    i’m a bird
    crying out
    on him
    and her,
    you present me
    your asian patient,
    take my hand out
    we don’t share
    two cakes ecstasy viral ophthalmology
    — yes
    he answers
    i’m staying the night in,

    back to effortfully extract three suns vitamin,

    take the metro,

    — Cute the bartender?
    — If he didn’t look his mobile so long!
    where effortfully
    you pick fruits
    for our supper
    flying to smoke
    red sun!
    you cross me on your right,
    you undress
    so good
    at the window
    you smoke,
    cook the chinese potion
    i picture you with a witch hat,
    really picture you
    hugging your lion caribou squirrel
    — No room without teddy bears!,
    to pick

    — The national police!
    red light!
    you run on your right i run
    we laugh
    red sign!
    we stop
    two firefighters cars
    — There was an accident.
    — Yes.
    smashed plastic
    of clothes
    from a bag
    — Why europeans aren’t like us americans?
    you take my hand to the merry-go-round
    — Ring the bell! — the father.
    — And she rings it.
    — Yes.,

    you pick
    i pick
    you pick
    for him
    he comes
    you kiss,

    a cover over the merry-go-round,

    at supper
    we are
    cracked eggs
    being hatched
    through the night

  2. sarah 18 novembre 2018 at 20 h 19 min - Reply

    for a while I’ve been totally focused on giving as much time as possible to my yoga practice, study, preparation and teaching, at last now the zafu at the foot of my bed gets warmed twice a day – and Zen lessons and writing are singing to me more loudly – all thanks to everyone. Deep bow Roshi!

  3. Tiago 17 novembre 2018 at 23 h 52 min - Reply

    Yet again, onward.
    The day started earlier than in a weekday. Had to catch a super early train due to announced train strikes in order to arrive early to a learning and meeting event outside London. This is the annual meeting of my professional body here in the UK, to which I contribute to coordinating various events. Pretty much the same as organizing retreats in Portugal. Maybe because of the week retreat, maybe not, but I felt more aware of « not me », of the reason why I do this, why I get up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday in a very full and busy week. The same reason applies to the sangha in Portugal. Sentient beings are numberless, I vow to save them.

    So the week was really just about that. To save, to see, to act. From a point of « not me »? Perhaps not always. But I keep trying.

    Thank you Amy for both talks, today and yesterday. I could say more about those but maybe another time as I don’t quite know how to articulate what I am feeling right now.

    For now, to all of you, my deepest love and gratitude for your practice. I truly could not have done it without you all!

  4. Freddy 17 novembre 2018 at 22 h 02 min - Reply

    The day after,

    Hi everyone,
    Thank you all for being there sharing that beautiful experience
    Thank you Amy

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