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Posts Tagged ‘ny’

Eileen O’Toole and Roses

December 19, 2013 Leave a comment

It was my great pleasure to film my dear and talented friend from Ireland, Eileen O’Toole, during her New York visit. Here is Eileen’s moving rendition of Kevin Quain’s haunting song, Roses. It reminds me of Rumi’s words:

“First, he suffered from the troubles of the thorn, but in the end, everything turned into a rose for him.”

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Hats and Philosophy

This sunlight linked me through the ages to that past consciousness.
~ Henry Williamson


Light and memories at Wiliamsburg’s Brooklyn Flea, New York 4/8/12


Hats

Hats by Toni Tan


Blossoms

Photo by Toni Tan

Philosophy
Confucius by Toni Tan

Who Am I?

February 17, 2012 8 comments

I am an avid reader of Charles R Hale’s blog called Stories Connect Love Heals. He posed the question “who are you?” – in terms of your ancestral history. He was kind enough to post my  response, and here is the full piece.

Who Am I?

I am the one who climbed out of the primordial ooze and found my grasp. I am the East African who made the tool; and the ancient warrior whose hand found the spear. I am the creative one, in Namibia, France, and Spain, who fashioned a paint brush, telling stories on cave walls. I am the Sumerian who began to plant. I am the one who plucked the string, and I am the one who pulled the trigger.

I am the shilpi whose chisel opened the eye of an Indian god. And the Chinese scholar learning the Four Arts. I am the Roman gladiator in the arena taking his last breath, and the Greek fisherman’s newborn taking its first.

I am the Pauite who believed in the ghost dance, and among the soldiers who silenced him.  I am the Slovenian discovering the flute and the Turk who built the temple. I am the one who built the bridge, and I am the one who built the prison.

I am the seanchai keeping the rich oral tradition alive with colorful tales of Ireland, and the Spartan whose culture will die. I am my immigrant grandfather and his oldest son digging deep inside a coal mine, moving closer, with each shovel of soil, to bringing my grandmother and their children across the ocean from Italy. I am the soldier who didn’t come home, and I am the soldier who did…

Who are you?

Toni