Early years: I grew up in an atheist-communist family where I suckled “Do unto others,“ and “In all groups there are good people and bad people.“ We lived in Montreal, a city my parents loved and I couldn’t wait to leave. I married a draft dodger, had a child, divorced, got degrees, and threw myself into the very thing my parents had abandoned: the search for a spiritual core. I yearned for a context for life that was inherently good through TM, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, Vipassana Meditation, and American teacher Andrew Cohen. I was deeply involved. Thirty-five years later, I woke up to the realization that for me spiritual enlightenment isn’t really it.

For those of us born into relatively affluent families in the developed west, our lives are ours to do with what we choose. So the question is: given all our circumstances, how are we going to spend that life? Free at last of the need to search for something I had become less and less committed to, I now opt to give my remaining time, energy and resources to those less fortunate than I. What that looks like takes different forms at different times, and will continue to evolve. My only regret is that I didn’t realize this earlier

Family

My nuclear family was good, although as a teenager I sure didn’t think so. My son (one and only) is now married and has a child, a beautiful little girl of 2 years, whose picture I am actually afraid to put on this website because of pornographic scams. Am I being paranoid?

My brother, a devout Canadian, lives in the U.S. with my sister-in-law. When their developmentally-delayed and autistic son was about to enter grade one, they had to move south because there were, and remain, no adequate educational services for this type of child in Ontario. Thanks to a wonderful school in Buffalo, NY, my nephew, now a young man in his early 20s, works in a sheltered workshop, and has just moved out of the house into his own partially assisted-living apartment with a roommate. My brother and sister-in-law have gone through a lot. My niece lives near me with her husband.

My mom died in 1993. We had become quite good friends by that time, and had a pretty mature relationship. (Notice the qualifiers.) I regret that I had not told her that I loved her much.

My dad died at the end of 2004, a few days after the tsunami. I spent the last week with him, during which he remarked to my aunt that he was glad that he finally got to know his daughter. In those final days we were both able to be vulnerable, that exposed state where all barriers are submerged and intimacy is simply there. It was painful to bear witness to his death, which was somewhat less than dignified, what with difficulties eating, sleeping and eliminating. One especially particularly arduous night he pleaded for relief, and I finally authorized morphine, which is what allowed him to die peacefully.

At his funeral when his coffin lid was lifted I saw something I had never seen before: my father was lying there, in his clothes, tallis and keepa, and he was – no exaggerating - shining. There was literally light emanating from him. My breath was taken away. I looked at the man who had opened the lid (I don’t know what these men are called), and whispered, “Beautiful.” He nodded. I glanced again, and reluctantly moved on. That was an amazing and profound moment.

Professional Life

As a young adult I became a TM Teacher. In the mid ‘70s I returned to university, finished my undergraduate degree in Dance, then an M.F.A. in Dance History and Criticism. This led to a wonderful teaching career, first part-time at both York University and Humber College, and then as a full-time faculty member at Humber’s Theatre Department. I loved this job, and left only because I thought I wanted to pursue enlightenment nonstop.

After I left Andrew Cohen’s community, I volunteered for Humana People to People (HPP), a corrupt international NGO headquartered in Denmark. I went to a project in Rajasthan, where in the end I felt like some good work was accomplished. In 2002, HPP’s leader, Amdi Petersen, who had been wanted by the Danish government for years, was arrested at the Los Angeles Airport. You can read more about this group at www.tvindalert.com.

A couple of good things came out of this: close working associations with several people I did not know before, and a renewed commitment to India and its multicultural people. I am grateful that I have had the opportunity do this.

The 60s

Okay, I was born in 1946, the best year. I threw myself into the 60s counter culture with zest. Acid experiences expanded and deepened my commitment to humanity and what connects us. By 1968 I was meditating regularly and had given up dope, but kept the philosophy.

The faith that we can create a better world still guides me.