‘How about today, shall we smoke?’ The diminutive* pensioner sitting opposite me lifts two fingers to her mouth; they are holding an invisible cigarette. ‘Sure, Vicky. Why not,’ I reply, and she is visibly delighted. She is not actually talking about smoking, but sharing some ricotta cigars—cylindrical pastries that are filled with cheese and jam,
With Mother’s Day upon us, I want to take a moment to honour what being a mother means. Certainly no mother is perfect. Some are downright challenging. Mine happens to be incredibly kind, and it’s my good fortune to be celebrating her today. But no matter the mother we’ve known, according to my Buddhist training
I attended a talk recently, where a well known local actress unabashedly bad-mouthed a fellow (rather famous) Australian actor. Her comments came within a conversation about living with wisdom, of all things. Said actress began by waxing lyrical about her craft and how she disappears into a story to express the truth of a character.
Musings on love, happiness, writing books, and living with meaning by Buddhist author Narissa Doumani.
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