Light Can Be Bright
Light
Can be Bright
Native Visions
Exploring an Expanding Universe
Breaking their Silencing
Feeling Something
Indescribable
Perhaps Just a Moment
if so, Incredibly so
Hopefully More
Taking the Time
to Find
What it may be?
Big Girls Don't Cry
BIG GIRLS DON'T CRY My father (Menachem) Imanuel Marx died Friday, November 13, 1964, when I was 13 years old. My mother woke my brother and I up with the news early that morning. We went to the hospital and saw him for the last time. I didn’t cry then. Daniel and I went to school that day. I didn’t tell anyone. Two days later at the funeral, I was still being “a man” (i.e. not crying). Until I was in my second men’s group around age 31, I didn’t allow myself to cry . I rationalized this by saying to myself: “ How does x compare with the death of my father ?”. I am self-identified as a Jewish man . Growing up that meant being intellectual and not emotional . Our Sabbath dinner was the only time in the week, when we couldn’t read at the table. While I was “schooled” on feelings through my men’s work (, most significantly through helping co-found M...
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