Category Archives: Europe

The Cliffs of Moher, Ireland

Text and photos by Roi J. Tamkin, Atlanta, Georgia

I visited the Cliffs of Moher on a recent trip to Ireland. Although the day was windy and chilly, I couldn’t help but marvel at the size of the steep, dark cliffs. I watched in awe as the wild waves of the Galway Bay crash into the tall, rocky walls.

This geological wonder is located in the southwest part of the Burren Region of County Clare. The cliffs stretch for nine miles. They stand 702 feet tall at O’Brien’s Tower and fall to over 200 feet at some points. The town of Doolin is nearby, and visitors can walk to town on a trail at the visitor’s center. You’re bound to see lots of sheep as you walk the trail.

The cliffs are the most visited tourist site in Ireland with 1.5 million tourists a year.

The cliffs were formed 326 million years ago from sediment deposited at the end of a river. Layer upon layer of sediments turned into Namurian shale and sandstone. Now these dark colored cliffs are subject to erosion due to wind and sea. Portions have crumbled into the water creating sea stacks.

The national landmark has been designated an Important Bird Area as those craggy cliffs are home to many species of birds including puffins and razorbills. When I visited, every bird looked like a gull to me. They flew from their homes burrowed into the rock face and headed out to see to find fish to eat.

A popular attraction is O’Brien’s Castle. Built in 1835 by Sir Cornelius O’Brien, people climb the steps for spectacular views of the Aran Islands across the Bay. There is disagreement as to the purpose of the Castle, but it has been a tourist hit right from the beginning.

The best time to visit is early in the morning. The morning hours afford the best view of the islands and surrounding land. I arrived in the afternoon, and even though the sun was high in the sky, it was extremely cold and windy. I only had twenty minutes of clear views of the ocean and the bright green grass atop the cliffs. Before long, the fog rolled in, and I could not see anything more than a foot from my face. Walking along the tops of the cliffs became dangerous, and I had to keep my eyes glued to the person walking in front of me for safety. The fog came in so quickly and so thick that I decided it was time to visit the museum inside the visitor’s center.

There are many different one-of-a-kind geological structures on the island of Ireland. The Cliffs of Moher tell the story of the passage of time. It took millions of years to build up the cliffs, and now erosion is tearing them back down to sediment. A visit to the Cliffs will last in your memory: the contrast of colors between the murky walls and the emerald green grass; the woolly sheep grazing nearby; and the mystery of O’Brien’s Tower all add up to an amazing day by the sea.

Text and photographs by Roi J. Tamkin, a photographer based in Atlanta, Georgia.

History Comes Alive in St. Augustine, Florida

History Comes Alive in St Augustine, Florida

By Roi Tamkin, writer and photographer, Georgia.

Bridge of Lions over the Mantazas

Come to St. Augustine, America’s oldest city, and step back through over 400 years of history. Founded by the Spanish in 1565, St. Augustine has survived centuries of wars, natural disasters and medical epidemics to become a major Florida destination for fun and education. The history is as rich and diverse as the people who lived through the years of exploration, conquest, disease and triumph.

St. Augustine’s story is told at every corner from the individuals whose lives touched this city, the architecture and the coastal climate down to the very spirits that inhabit certain places and can only be seen at night.

Fifty-five years before the Pilgrims touched Plymouth Rock, the conquistador Pedro Menendez de Aviles landed on North Florida’s eastern coast. He established the first European settlement in America living alongside the native population, the Timucuans. Today, that landing spot is marked by a large cross and the shrine to Mary, Our Lady of La Leche.

Shrine to Mary, Our Lady of La Leche.

As soon as the British established its colonies north of Florida, the Spanish offered freedom to escaped slaves in return for serving in the Spanish militia. In 1738, 100 former slaves built Fort Mose north of the city. Sadly, climate change and rising sea levels have destroyed the old fort, but you can visit the state park today and learn how the freed slaves lived during the Spanish era.

Fort Mose State Park Boardwalk

In the late 1700’s, immigrants from the Mediterranean island of Menorca arrived in St. Augustine seeking refuge. They brought with them their customs and traditions and lived in their own neighborhood while increasing the population of the city. Although today the Menorcans have blended in with American society, many restaurants still serve Menorcan cuisine. You might even find some local shops selling hand-crafted items of their former Mediterranean life.

Castillo de San Marcus

The city has preserved many historic buildings and their furnishings to demonstrate how people lived through the ages. The Castillo de San Marcus is the oldest masonry fortification in the U.S. Completed in 1695, it guards the city from its colossal post by the Matanzas Bay. Henry Flagler is a name synonymous with St. Augustine’s grand architecture. He built the exquisite Ponce de Leon Hotel as a resort for the wealthy. Today it is part of Flagler College. The nearby Lightner Museum was also a renowned hotel built by Flagler. Today it houses an extensive collection of decorative arts from the Gilded Age and a large collection of Tiffany glass art.

Gopher Tortoise Says Hello

In addition to the history and architecture, St. Augustine abounds in wildlife. All around the coast are rookeries for birds and estuaries for fish. In addition to Mose State Park is Anastasia State Park on Anastasia Island. The state park is known for its long stretch of sandy beaches, but it also home to the gopher tortoise and the endangered Anastasia Island beach mouse. Walking along the shore you are bound to see crab and an abundance of shore birds. You might even spot a pod of dolphins jumping through the waves. Just don’t swim in pools of fresh water. There’s likely to be a snake or alligator lurking around.

Of course, with a city this old, ghost stories flourish. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, you might want to keep your eyes open as you pass through the city gates. Stories of lost children, jilted brides and innocent men hung at the old jail are as plentiful as the seashells that make up the walls of the Castillo de San Marcus.

City Gates: Ghosts Haunt Here

Spending a couple of days on Florida’s historic coast is a trip through time while experiencing different cultures, languages, food and art. It’s also an opportunity to see alligators, birds and other sea life up close. But not too close when it comes to the alligators!

Photographs and article by Roi Tamkin, writer and photographer, Georgia.

Seeing the World on a Bicycle

By Arun Narayan Toké, Eugene, Oregon.

A few weeks ago, I bicycled the east rim of the famous Crater Lake with two good friends of mine. You might ask what’s so special about this bicycle ride?

On two Saturdays in early September, the Crater Lake National Park in Oregon (USA) closes the East Rim Drive to automobile traffic. Only bicycles and hikers are allowed to enjoy this beautiful mountainous landscape. It overlooks the incredibly beautiful, natural 2,000 ft. deep lake that was created about 7,700 years ago, when a volcanic eruption left a huge hole where the Mount Mazama once stood sky high—some 11,000 feet high. Snowmelt and rains over 750 years formed this crystal clear, deep blue lake. After the United States government made this natural landscape and its surroundings into a National Park in 1902, they also built a 33-mile long “Rim Road” at a height of about 7,000 to 8,000 ft. so visitors can appreciate the natural beauty as they drive around the lake to observe the varied vistas of the valleys and the mountains.

Each year, three to five thousand bicycle enthusiasts—young and old—come to ride around the lake on these two Saturdays. Some participants choose to hike or run parts of the scenic road with no shops or commercial activities. Every so often, you come across rest areas with incredible vistas of the lake (see photo above), distant valleys, and many spectacular mountains like the Diamond Peak. The organizers even provide several rest stops offering cold drinking water, snacks, and hot drinks. At one rest stop, someone even served us freshly baked, nutritious cake!

Two years ago, after bicycling a part of the East Rim Road during this event, my friend Daemion and I had hiked a mile down to the lake shore, and took an exhilarating swim in the icy cold waters, and then hiked back to the rim with about 2,000 feet elevation gain. (Daemion is a “pro” at bicycling. A few years earlier, he had bicycled 2,000 kilometers from his hometown on the Southern Oregon Coast to the Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona, and after his Peace Corps volunteering assignment in Sierra Leone, he bicycled over 1,600 kilometers to Ghana before returning back to the U.S.!)

With the popularity of the electric-assist bicycles, senior citizens and others with limited physical abilities are able to participate in this adventure, once reserved for only the “physically-fit” athletes.

This beautiful bicycle ride reminded me of my five month long adventure, several decades ago, when I was young and full of zest for adventure.

* * * * *

As a child, I grew up in Central India…my father had a bicycle repair and rental shop. Naturally, I learned from him how to fix simple repairs like oiling the moving parts and fixing flats in inner tubes. In the U.S., if you take your bicycle with a flat to a bicycle shop, they simply replace the inner tube. But in India, the repair shops actually found the pinhole using a container of water to see where the air was leaking out from the tube, and then vulcanized it. Similarly, when a tire had small hole or break in it due to wear and tear, they’d put a piece of an old tire as a backing to cover the worn out area, rather than replacing the old tire. It was inexpensive and meant for functionality, rather than speed. Only when it was absolutely needed would they put in a new part!

After I moved to Vermont (USA), I acquired a ten-speed bicycle. During my weekends or summer breaks, I didn’t shy away from bicycling 60 miles or so a day, over two or three mountain ridges with steep inclines. And, for the last 30 years in Eugene, my common mode of commute is bicycling. I believe I must have bicycled upwards of 50,000 miles (80,000 Kilometers) over these years.

* * * * *

I have cherished memories of my five-month-long travels by bicycle in Northern Europe. On my return trip to the U.S. in the summer of 1986, I was invited to visit some friends in Germany and in Sweden. After spending a few weeks of summer with my friends in Germany, I went to Stockholm. It was mid-summer and the days were long and warm. I decided spontaneously to buy an old (I’d say, antique), single-speed bicycle for a very reasonable price in the university town of Uppsala and bicycled south to the Stockholm! It was strenuous, of course. But after a couple of days of resting at my friends’ house, I was ready to continue. I had no idea where I’d go, how far I might travel, which way I might take, and for how long!

I set my next destination as Karlstad, the City of Lakes in Southwest-central Sweden. While bicycling in the afternoon, it began to rain. I kept myself dry under a porch roof and after a while when it stopped raining, I continued on. I realized I had not prepared well for the trip—no raincoat, no spare tubes, no bicycle pump, no tools, no tent, no bicycling maps, and no plans. True, I did have a road map of Sweden so I could decide which general direction I might take and what my next immediate destination city might be.

Que sera, sera! Whatever will be, will be! I wanted an attitude of faith and trust. I decided I’d deal with what comes my way, when it does! Since I had not made any big plans, I didn’t feel like I was under any pressure that I had so much more to travel, or that I had so little time left to complete my journey.

When it felt right, I would look for a place to stay—either a youth hostel or, if I was in the middle of nowhere, just sleep under the stars in my sleeping bag. Sometimes, I asked a passerby or a farmer along the rural road if they knew of a place I might stay for the night. Many a times, the farmers offered their barns… but they made sure to ask me if I smoked. When I told them, “No, I do not smoke,” they invited me to use their barn; and usually there was plenty of hay in the barn to make a good padding under my sleeping bag. More likely than not, I was also invited for a morning breakfast of muesli (cereal), yoghurt or kefir (cultured milk), toast, a good cup of coffee, and light conversation. And, then I’d continue on my journey.

At times, I bicycled late into the night… at that high latitude, almost near the Arctic Circle, the sun did not set until almost midnight. As tired as I’d be most days, I slept like a log, and I had no idea what time I woke up. I carried no watch, and in those days, there were no cellphones either. It was a totally carefree way to travel. I had no schedule, no planes or trains to catch, and nobody waiting for me.

My Swedish friends had told me that in Sweden, you could camp out anywhere in the countryside as long as you were not bothering others. If you camped about100 meters away from a home for the night, you’d be fine. I did not see any “No Trespassing” signs anywhere!

Most campgrounds did not charge you to sleep there; but you had to pay for the use of their facilities or restrooms, etc. It being a warm summer season, I was very comfortable sleeping outdoors without a tent; and at times, I found refreshing places to swim. International youth hostels provided a reasonable place to stay and a good morning breakfast. I often bought my supplies in small stores—fruits, vegetables, bread, etc. to keep me nourished. At times, I found patches of wild strawberries and raspberries in the countryside too.

* * * * *

One morning, after a good night’s rest out in the open countryside, I packed my bag and began bicycling. Soon, I rode by a few teenagers sitting on a culvert. They tried to make some conversation in their broken English and invited me to their home. Their mom served me a breakfast of fish curry and rice. They were refugees from Vietnam.

In one small city of may be 20,000 people, when I reached downtown it must have been past 10 p.m., I asked some youth (who looked Indian) hanging out in the town square, if they knew of a youth hostel in the town. They said they didn’t know, but that they were staying in a hotel, and I was welcome to join them. I walked with my bicycle over to their hotel. I found out that they were war refugees from Sri Lanka, and the government had housed them in this hotel. I watched them make hot, spicy curry and rice. Luckily, they had some yoghurt to go with the meal; I don’t think I could have possibly eaten that super hot curry with several tablespoons of red cayenne pepper. We had some good conversations before retiring for the night.

Another evening, it was raining—not very heavy, but a consistent rain. It was too wet to find a dry spot to sleep outside. So I waited out the rain under a roof before continuing on. Finally, when it stopped raining in the wee hours of the morning, I bicycled on towards the town of Holden in Norway until I found a picnic area, and I slept in my sleeping bag on one of the picnic tables; the grass was too wet!

Early that morning, I heard a car pulling into a nearby picnic area. So I figured it was time to roll on. Just as I was about to get out of my sleeping bag, a middle-aged woman from that car came walking to my table and said in Norwegian or Swedish, “Good Morning,” and handed me a hot cup of coffee and some snacks with a smile. And, she went back to her family for their breakfast. What a kind and considerate couple!

* * * * *

I kept going towards Oslo for a while, but decided to head south instead, towards the famous city of Gothenburg. It is the second largest city in Sweden. It’s situated on the Kattegat, an arm of the North Sea. After enjoying swimming at a vast beachside park, I continued south towards Copenhagen in Denmark. I connected with a couple of other cyclists, and we bicycled together for a while. That encouraged me enough to continue on with my bicycle journey. It had become a way of life for me. I pedaled across the southern region of Sweden to Kivik on the Southeastern coast. I was having a light conversation with the owner of a farm and I noticed that they were using a wood pellet stove for heating the farmhouse. During our conversation he realized that not only did I have an engineering background but also that I had written a textbook on Energy and Society, so he invited me to see his wood-chip stove and the heating system. After that he extended an invitation to stay with the family for the weekend. He said they had a birthday party for their daughter the next day and that I might like to experience that.

So, next morning—bright and early—we all walked over to her window to wake her up with a Happy Birthday song in Swedish. And the party was on! I felt like I was a part of their family. I wrote a story of this Swedish Birthday Celebration in English and typed it up on their non-electric typewriter and presented it to the family for their keepsake.

Then I bicycled west towards Malmö and continued over the bridge to Copenhagen, Denmark. While pedaling, my knee was acting up; even a slight uphill was impossible to pedal over. So, when I visited a Danish-Mexican family that I had met during my travels in Sweden, they suggested to rest up for a week with them. After that week of rest, when they suggested that I go north with them to a folk music festival in Aarhus, I was more than happy to accept. This way, they said, I would be able to ride through much of Denmark and get a feel for the country. I bicycled up one of the tallest points, Himmelbjerget (The Sky Mountain) in Denmark (150 meters high!) and then fly down it on my bicycle.

In the rural area of Denmark just north of Holland, while enquiring if there was a youth hostel in the area, an old farmer saw that I was bicycling through Scandinavian countries and invited me to his farmhouse. He also asked an English teacher he knew in the area who had visited the United States to check me out. After talking with me for a while and seeing my valid U.S. passport, he told the farmer that I was to be trusted. And he told me I was welcome to stay with them. The old farmer, close to seventy years, quickly cleaned up a spare bedroom in the house for me. We played a game of chess and ate typical Danish supper with Danish beer. The old man spoke no English and I did not know any Danish; but we had a great time. I was asked to come to a party the next day, but I politely declined.

While bicycling through Denmark, I noticed that I could see the inner tube on my front wheel; the old tire had worn out in a place after traveling more than a 1,000 kilometers. I bought a new tire at a bicycle shop at 5 pm on a Friday evening, just before they closed. They couldn’t put it on until the next working day and I figured I would do it somehow.

As I was bicycling through the city with a tire hanging on the handlebar, a middle-aged man waved me down and asked if he could help me with tools to replace the tire. We walked over to his home a few blocks away and replaced the worn out tire. During our light conversation, when he realized I had been bicycling through several countries, he graciously invited me for supper and an overnight stay. He was a schoolteacher and we shared good conversations on various topics. And, the next morning, I continued on my journey south to Germany, all rested up and refreshed.

* * * * *

Soon, I was bicycling through Flensburg, Germany. I continued on to the large city of Hamburg in Northern Germany, and visited a couple I knew from my trip to Guatemala. They had a new-born child, and I was amazed to see the planning and detailed work they had put in the bedroom for their baby. It was very conducive to a restful sleep. Every night, they read a couple of board books to the baby and turned on soft music to get the baby ready for a good night’s rest. I was included in the whole ritual!

After spending a few days with them sightseeing, I was on my way south. While crossing a bridge over the Elbe River in Hamburg, I saw someone walking about 50 feet ahead. I said to myself, I think I know who she could be. I yelled her name as I bicycled towards her, and sure enough, it was my friend Heike. What a pleasant surprise! We had met on our “Peacewalk Through Central America” a couple of years earlier and walked together over 500 kilometers through Costa Rica and Nicaragua. No wonder, I could tell who was walking ahead!

After a good conversation and quick lunch at an ethnic restaurant, we decided to bicycle on to Frankfurt. Heike needed to go visit her aunt there. She picked up her bicycle from her home, and we were on our way south. After spending a few days with her aunt in Frankfurt, I continued the journey to Heidelburg in Southern Germany. I had left my luggage with my friends there before I had gone to Sweden. After a few days of resting and sharing my experiences with my friends, it was time to begin my return journey.

* * * * *

Much of the time, I was able to bicycle on scenic and safe bike paths along the rivers in urban areas of Germany. In Sweden, Norway and Denmark, the bike paths paralleled the main roads but they were separated by rows of trees or some grassland and therefore, it was less noisy, more pleasant and much safer to bicycle on them. In some larger cities, they even had “Bicycle Only Roads,” with their own traffic lights! Throughout my travels, I felt car drivers were very considerate of bicyclists and pedestrians. They drove carefully so as not to endanger us. Once, I was pleasantly surprised when a big semi (a huge truck) stopped for me to cross the street on my bicycle.

The bicycle lanes and bike baths were free of litter. During my whole trip, not once did I get a flat tire; no nails, no broken glass or sharp objects halted my bicycle journey. My rear tire served me well until almost the end of my 2,500-kilometer journey. Then I discovered a slow air leak in rear tire near Wuppertal, a hilly city south of Dortmund. I rode up and down a steep, long and windy road on my single-speed bicycle. However, while climbing up I was going too slow for the headlamp to shine bright; the generator didn’t work at low speed! Other than that, this 50 plus year-old bicycle gave me no trouble on this long journey that covered parts of Sweden, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, Belgium, and Holland (the Netherlands). I visited some famous cities like Stockholm, Copenhagen, Hamburg, Bonn, Cologne, Dortmund, Frankfurt, Heidelburg, and Amsterdam. In a few cities, like Bonn (which used to be the capital city then), I even stayed long enough to know the local culture and attractions. This was the most wonderful, educational experience I could have had. It was beyond my imagination and it did not cost me an arm and a leg.

On my return journey, I covered the Netherlands in just a couple of days and arrived in Haarlem, about 25 kilometers west of Amsterdam. I had visited a Christian community in this coastal city some years earlier. So after a few days, I said goodbye to the Netherlands and left on a ferry to the United Kingdom, leaving my bicycle with the Christian community.

* * * * *

Life has taken a different turn since then. I have been publishing Skipping Stones, a multicultural, global awareness magazine for today’s youth for the last 36 years. My European experience was definitely a motivational factor in founding the magazine.

In Germany, Denmark, Sweden, and the Netherlands, like so many other countries on the continent, almost all of the young Europeans I met were bilingual or trilingual! I wanted to promote this concept of multilingualism in Skipping Stones. In the beginning years, many of our published articles, poems, and stories were in two or three languages, side by side. Having grown up using three languages in India, it was normal for me. But not so for many Americans!

Unless you grew up near the Southern border—like in Arizona, Texas or California—where many people do speak both Spanish and English, it’s not common to meet many bilingual people in the United States. Of course, most new Americans and Latin Americans (including Cuban Americans and Puerto Ricans) are fluent in at least two languages. Because I have spent more than a year in Mexico and Central America, I have acquired some ability to communicate in Spanish, and I know first hand, how comfortable it feels to have the language skills of the region you are visiting. Most Indians can vouch to this fact of social life; for we grew up with learning and speaking three or more languages in India. Mahatma Gandhi could speak 14 languages, I have heard!

Recently, as I was about to start writing this article, I came across a news report of Lael Wilcox, an American woman who bicycled around the world—over 18,000 miles (that’s 29,000 Kilometers) in a record 108 days and 12 hours—averaging some 160 miles a day! While my bicycling adventure was nowhere near that caliber, I have acquired a lifetime of experience bicycling through, and immersing myself in, five countries in about five months. I would recommend it to anyone who can take time in life to embark on such a journey. I have met bicyclists like Willy Weir, who have bicycled in many continents and written a few books about their wonderful experiences. One thing for sure, people all over the world are more than pleased to meet and greet adventurous souls, break bread with them, have chai and chat with them, and make them feel welcomed, wherever they are.

Bicycling is an amazing mode of transportation; I cannot say that enough. In today’s world where plane-hopping and automobile travel has become the norm for so many of us, bicycling offers a welcome relief. We can soak in the beauty of life, away from the hustle and bustle of busy airports or crowded lanes of our highways. As we bicycle, often we’re able to stop frequently to have a look at something that calls for our attention, appreciate the beauty that nature has to offer, or to say hello to people we meet along the way. Our carbon footprint is much smaller with the bicycling way of life and travels, and we get more value out of our time and money. Our journey offers us many surprises along the way while we keep our body healthy and fit; our muscles strong and vibrant while we keep on pedaling.

By Arun Narayan Toké, Executive Edior.

Art in the Time of War: The Children of Zaporizhzhia

By Svitlana Budzhak-Jones, President, Sister’s Sister, Inc.

“Zaporizhzhia” by Yuriy Martynov, age 13, Ukraine.

The unprovoked, brutal war against Ukraine sadly has entered its third year. It has brought much destruction and sorrow to the people of Ukraine. Millions were displaced internally. Millions became refugees elsewhere in the world. Countless Ukrainian children have lost their homes, have difficulties in accessing education, health care and even basic necessities such as drinking water. Bomb shelters and cellars have replaced their rooms, metro benches have become their beds, and air raid sirens on a daily basis drone instead of school bells. While many Ukrainian men and women actively fight on the battlefield for their country, culture and independence, others stay dedicated to the children who remain in Ukraine.

The Central Southern city of Zaporizhzhia is under constant artillery shelling and aerial bombing. But the Center for Children’s and Youth Creativity in the city continues to operate, and attempts to create a safe space to safeguard the children’s childhood. The Gradient creative Computer Design Circle at the Center has not closed its doors even when its teacher Ms. Nadiya Chepiga was forced to flee Ukraine to Poland in the first months of heavy enemy assaults on the city. Ms. Chepiga then continued to work with her students online for the entire year before returning back to her home city and to her students.

The Gradient Circle is now in its thirteenth year of operation. Hundreds of children between the ages of 6 and 17 have learned to create beautiful art there and connect with their inner spirit, bringing them one step closer to becoming professional graphic designers and artists. The Circle creates a comfortable environment for shaping children’s creative abilities, meeting their individual needs for intellectual, moral, aesthetic, and creative development, shaping a culture that includes a healthy lifestyle and organizing their free time. The children learn the principles of drawing art objects, creating drawings and 3D images, acquiring skills in making artwork in various media and styles, learning the basics of graphic design, creating postcards, posters, calendars, and memorabilia. The children search for their individual style of work and aesthetic preferences, develop their creative imagination and fantasy, learn to take creative initiative, and develop their independence.

The Circle’s founding director and teacher Nadiya Chepiga is a creative artist herself, who has implemented numerous creative projects with her students, has helped them realize their creative vision and brought them to life, and trained hundreds of creative individuals. Despite the ongoing war, the students and their teacher continue participating in various nationwide Ukrainian and International competitions as well as in art exhibitions.

Life goes on even in the extremely challenging circumstances created by the war. The students and their teacher continue meeting twice per week. Frequently, instruction needs to be done online because of constant air raid warnings. But on Sundays, the students try to meet with their teacher in person in the Center. And if an air raid siren goes off, they seek cover in the basement (see below) or in corridors where they continue their lessons. Since the enemy missiles and bombs focus on destroying power plants, there is usually no heat, and the students wear winter coats and jackets during their lessons. Yet they enjoy their meetings and continue creating beautiful, original works of art.

Gradient Students Continue with their Art Classes in the Institute’s Basement.

Fifteen of their art creations were exhibited by the humanitarian aid organization Sister’s Sister (www.SistersSister.org) in State College, Pennsylvania on March 23, 2024 during a benefit concert for Ukraine. Sister’s Sister provides humanitarian support to the Ukrainian people, particularly to children, hospitals, orphanages, and the disabled in Ukraine, including State College’s sister city, Nizhyn, located in the Chernihiv region. The artwork exhibited at the concert was created by the students and enhanced with computer graphics under the supervision and guidance of their teacher. Their work draws, in part, on Ukrainian art, famous for its folk traditions and exquisite embroidery, the red and black threads of which represent happiness and sorrow. Sadly, there is too much of the black threads of sorrow in these difficult times for the children of Ukraine, while Nadiya Chepiga, whose first name means “hope,” brings hope to the children of Zaporizhzhia through art. For more information, please visit the websites linked to the QR codes below:

The children’s creativity will continue to be realized despite the nearly impossible conditions and their spirit will remain indominable!

By Svitlana Budzhak-Jones, Ph.D., President, Sister’s Sister, Inc. (www.SistersSister.org)

Hummingbird by Artem Lopatyn, age 10.

“Mystery” by Yeva Pavrianidis, age 10

“Free” by Zlata Khalayim, age 10.

“Music Inspires” by Vyacheslav Sukhanov, age 14.

“Autumn” by Oleksandra Patoka, age 9.

“Thoughts” by Danylo Yerokhin, age 16.

“I Am Ukraine” by Danylo Yerokhin, age 15. The central figure in color is represented by a traditional Ukrainian embroidery against a large city background. The Ukrainian text above says: CONVENTION ON THE RIGHTS OF THE CHILD (left corner), and in the right corner, Article 30. A child has the right to enjoy his or her own culture.”

“Zaporizhzhian Oak Tree” by Edik Boitsev, age 13.

“Lord of the Forest” by Danylo Yerokhin, age 16.

“Ukraine, the Bountiful” by Kateryna Yuhayeva, age 14.

“Ukraine Right Now” by Polina Pustovit, age 17.

“The City in Your Head” by Danylo Yerokhin, age 16.

“Unity” by Polina Zakharova, age 12. The poster says: “The Responsibility Starts with Me.”

“Lviv” by Oleksandra Chepiha, age 12.

“Ocean Dweller” by Artem Panov, age 13.

“Mars” by Danylo Yerokhin, age 16.

“Ukrainian Village” by Danylo Usenko, age 12.

“Hare” by Oleksandra Vasyliyeva, age 10.

“Kitty” by Diana Kardinal, age 9.

The Secret

By Hongwei Bao, United Kingdom.

“Your secret is safe with me,” was Ming’s promise when I told him that I liked boys instead of girls.

Ming was my best friend at school. Wearing the same type of school uniform, Ming looked older and bigger, but we were the same age. We grew up together in the same neighbourhood and our parents knew each other well. Ming was always the first one to hear stories from me. I trusted him on everything and anything. One afternoon after school, we met at the balance bars on the school playground as usual. It was just the two of us. I mustered up courage and told him about my secret.

Ming seemed slightly surprised, but he soon smiled and agreed to keep it a secret for me, as he had done other times. We were best friends after all. After a few push-ups, we headed for our own homes.

The next morning, in the school corridor, just as I was about to wave at him and say hi, I noticed something was different. As soon as he saw me, he dropped his head and continued to walk on, avoiding eye contact with me. In the classroom, I couldn’t help casting frequent glimpses at his side—he wasn’t looking at me. In fact, he remained quiet all day. When the school bell rang, he picked up his schoolbag and left the classroom in a rush. Was it because of my secret? What did he do to my secret?

I ate very little that evening. Mum frowned when she saw the food I’d left in the bowl. Dad threw me a disapproving look and asked me how my day was. “It was OK,” I replied, “lots of homework to do.” I stood up, ready to leave the table.

“Wait!” Dad raised his hand and gestured me to sit down. His eyes looked serious.

After a few seconds of silence, he spoke: “We know it. Ming told his parents, and his dad told me about it.”

I could hear my own heartbeat.

”I’ve asked them to keep it a secret. They’ll make sure Ming doesn’t talk about it either,” Dad added.

A relief, followed by a profound sense of sadness.

“You should learn a lesson from this. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

Horrified by these words, I nodded sheepishly.

“Ming will remain your friend, but he will need more time to understand this,” he consoled me.

I dropped my head, tears in my eyes.

The next morning, in the school corridor and in the classroom, I tried to avoid Ming. The day felt long, and the air was steaming hot. I couldn’t concentrate on the lessons. The words in the textbook jumped around and didn’t make much sense. I wished the Earth would crack open, and I could disappear into the hole. I felt ashamed for what I had done, and for who I was.

Near the end of a day, a small, folded paper ball landed on my desk. I picked it up and unwrapped slowly. Ming’s handwriting jumped into my eyes:

“Can we talk?”

There, on the playground, near the balance bars, Ming told me that he was confused the other day and didn’t know what to do. So he told his parents about it. They simply told him to shut up and keep quiet. But he couldn’t help thinking about it, and about me. He told me that he liked boys too.

—Hongwei Bao (he/him) grew up in China and now lives in Nottingham, UK. He uses short stories, poems, reviews and essays to explore queer desire, Asian identity, diasporic positionality, and transcultural intimacy.

A Joyous Celebration

By Janelle Tang, age 17, United Kingdom

As children, our mother instilled in my brother and me the value of acquiring life skills. “It sets you apart,” she would say. While my brother chose the path of mastering musical instruments, I gravitated towards the realm of languages. Growing up in a multilingual household where Mandarin, Cantonese, and English intermingled, it felt natural to continue exploring new linguistic possibilities.

Languages fascinated me. I was captivated by the way words gracefully rolled off tongues, the enchanting melodies embedded within different accents, and how each language seemed to unlock a door to an entirely new world, no matter how challenging they were to learn.

Eager to venture beyond Asian languages, it was my mother who suggested French as a suitable starting point. The elegance and poetic charm of the language quickly mesmerized me. The melodic flow and the way the words effortlessly danced off my tongue evoked a thrilling sensation, fuelling my desire to delve deeper into its intricacies. Interestingly, despite my passion and aptitude for it, French proved to be the language that took the longest to fully grasp. Nevertheless, I persisted with unwavering determination to expand my linguistic repertoire.

After realizing that Spanish wasn’t the right fit for me, I found myself immersed in the fascinating world of German. Its harsh and dynamic phonetics stood in stark contrast to French, yet it intrigued me on a profound level. Being enrolled in a German-speaking school accelerated my progress, and within two years, my command of German surpassed my years of studying French. As time passed, I added Latin, Ancient Greek, and Japanese to my linguistic arsenal. Collecting foreign books became a cherished ritual, serving as stepping stones towards mastery of these languages, even if they held little practical use in everyday conversation. Opening those books and facing new words to memorize was often the most challenging part of my week, and I confronted frustration and annoyance regularly. Yet, I learned to embrace these moments as an integral part of the learning process.

While claiming mastery of these languages would be premature, I am confidently navigating the path toward proficiency. Learning languages has opened a realm of possibilities for me. It has enabled me to connect with individuals from diverse backgrounds, bridging cultural gaps through the power of communication.

By reading literature in its original form, I savour the subtleties and nuances that can be lost in translation. Traveling to different countries, I navigate unfamiliar territories with familiarity, immersing myself in local customs and traditions. Language has transcended being merely a skill or a means of communication—it has shaped my worldview. It has allowed me to perceive things through different lenses, appreciate the beauty of diversity, and comprehend that language is not just a tool, but a gateway to empathy and understanding.

In essence, speaking multiple languages is not a mere accomplishment; it is a joyous celebration of the rich tapestry of human expression. For me, it serves as a powerful tool to forge connections with others on a profound level, where humanity unites in a shared pursuit of compassion, harmony, and mutual respect.

By Janelle Tang, age 17, United Kingdom. She is a rising senior at Wycombe Abbey School in England. In addition to languages and writing, she is also interested in arts and is the Head of History of Art Society at her school. Her two paintings will be added to in the ART BY YOUTH section.

The Alchemy of Love

By Satish Kumar, Editor Emeritus, Resurgence

Satish Kumar, Editor Emeritus, Resurgence. Photo by: Daniel Elkan

“I have decided to stick to love; hatred is too great a burden to bear.” 

– Martin Luther King Jr.

Love is all very well, but can we love Vladimir Putin?

I am often asked this question, and I always give the same response, which is to say we must love Putin in order to transform him and save millions of innocent lives. Only love, I tell people, has the power to transform Putin. 

The Sufi poet Rumi wrote:

By love the bitter becomes sweet, 
By love copper becomes gold, 
By love pain becomes healing. 
And to this, I would add:
By love enemies become friends. 

This, then, is the true potential in the alchemy of love and in adopting love as a verb.

Wars and weapons can kill, but they cannot transform. And, of course, before one can kill some ‘undesirable’ person, one might kill thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of innocent people. In wars, millions are made homeless and become refugees. Schools, hospitals and homes are destroyed. Roads, railways and historic buildings are decimated. The price of food and fuel goes up. And it is those living in poverty who will suffer the most. In modern military operations, it is impossible to avoid civilian casualties.

Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden were killed, but before they died how many ordinary men, women and children lost their homes or their lives? How many soldiers on both sides were killed, wounded or forever traumatised? And after all the deaths and destruction, what was achieved? Nothing! Afghanistan is still ruled by the Taliban, and Iraq is still in chaos. If the greatest military power in the world, the United States, could not win a war after 20 years of fighting in Afghanistan, what hope is there for either side to win the current war in Ukraine?

If there is a lesson to be learned from the experience of recent wars such as those in Vietnam, Korea, Iraq and Afghanistan, then the lesson is simple and clear: wars are not only futile, but they are also obsolete; they neither transform tyrants nor accomplish peace. 

Nations have waged wars and practised hatred for hundreds of years and have failed miserably in their stated goals. The UK tried to conquer Afghanistan but failed, Russia tried to rule Afghanistan but failed, America tried to establish a friendly government in Afghanistan by military means but it too failed.

So now let them all try love. 

It is easy to love someone who is reasonable and agreeable, who is good and gracious. But to love someone who behaves in a narrow-minded, arrogant and selfish way requires real courage and strength. Making peace with Putin would be a sign of strength, not of weakness.

We need to understand that those who behave badly do so because they have not themselves been loved. The poet W.H. Auden wrote, “Those to whom evil is done do evil in return.” 

The path of love is taken by the brave and not by the faint-hearted. The real test of love is to love your enemy. Love conquers all. Amor vincit omnia. 

War prolongs conflict, but love resolves conflict. Love is as logical as it is magical. Love makes miracles. 

History is full of violent systems: slavery, apartheid, sexism, Nazism, colonialism, casteism and many more unpleasant ‘isms’. Some people think that communism is evil. Others think that capitalism is evil. And if we always take the path of confrontation and opposition in order to overcome these undesirable systems and to defeat our opponents by war, we are simply pouring fuel on the fire and then hoping to extinguish it.

Wise leaders have often proclaimed that the ends cannot justify the means. Noble ends must be pursued and accomplished by noble means – which include love and nonviolent resistance. There is no way to peace: peace is the way.

Mahatma Gandhi is believed to have said, “There are many causes I would die for. There is not a single cause I would kill for.”

We have witnessed the success of nonviolent resistance. Gandhi and the Indian struggle for independence, Martin Luther King and the peaceful campaign against racism in America, Nelson Mandela and the anti-apartheid movement, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa. These are some utterly inspiring examples of nonviolent action founded on love. These movements brought about a change of heart leading to a change of regime. These movements were founded on the humility of hearts, on generosity of spirit and on an unconditional love for humanity. 

Love is letting go of ego and arrogance. To love is to accept the multiplicity of systems and the diversity of truths. Love is to live and let live. Love and selfishness do not go together. Love celebrates unity, ego imposes uniformity. Love embraces diversity; ego causes division. Love lets a thousand flowers bloom; ego wants a monoculture. Ego is driven by self-interest, love looks for common interest. Ego seeks separation, love likes relationship. Ego engages in self-seeking, love seeks mutuality and reciprocity. Ego leads to war, love leads to peace. Ego creates contradiction, love creates conciliation.

If we want peace, prosperity and happiness, then love should be a way of life for all of us. It is through love that we find meaning in our lives. The art of love needs to be learned and practised every day. As we nourish our bodies with food every day, so we can nourish our souls with love every day. Love is food for the soul. Love is the essence of life: love of ourselves, love of each other, love of people and love of Nature. No one, not even Putin, is our enemy. I would say the same thing to Putin: Ukrainians are not your enemies, Europeans and Americans are not your enemies. Only through friendship can the whole of humanity protect its common interests. 

Wars cause climate catastrophe. The production of weapons, the constant flying of military planes and the use of other military vehicles, including tanks, require huge amounts of fossil fuel. After the war is over, further fossil fuels are needed to rebuild destroyed buildings and damaged infrastructure. In war people suffer and Nature suffers. In war no one wins and everyone loses.  

War leaders sit comfortably in the Kremlin or in the White House. Soldiers suffer. Society suffers. War is pointless. War is unnecessary. War is uncivilised. War is hell. War is out of date. There is no other act as bitter, as traumatic and as stupid as war. War is immoral and irrational, whoever initiates it. 

Ukrainians blame Putin, Putin blames Ukrainians. But love takes us beyond this blame game. It takes two to fight a war and it takes two to make peace. But politicians of all persuasions seem to have lost the art of making peace. They seem to have forgotten the statesmanship, the statecraft and the craft of true diplomacy that are always rooted in deep love.

Nations know how to conquer the moon. They know how to destroy our precious planet Earth with nuclear weapons, not once but a hundred times over. But the presidents and prime ministers of Europe, the US and Ukraine don’t seem to know how to talk with Putin and help him see the futility of war and inspire him to seek peace! Nor does Putin seem to know how to befriend his neighbours like the Ukrainians and make them feel safe. What is the point of all this progress, what is the benefit of all this education and all the scientific achievements if the graduates of Oxford and Cambridge, Harvard  and Yale, Moscow and Beijing don’t know how to establish harmony among nations and peace among people?

Politics without wisdom is a very dangerous thing, and sadly, politicians do not know how to be true statesmen, ambassadors do not know how to be true diplomats, and religious leaders do not know how to practise love as a verb. Governments of all colours spend billions and trillions of dollars, roubles and euros in preparation for war while many of their citizens are homeless, jobless and hungry, living on food provided by food banks. 

I am a pacifist and a peacemaker. I do not excuse Putin for attacking Ukraine. But I want Ukraine and the supporters of Ukraine, as well as the Russians and their supporters, to rise above their narrow national interests and seek the common interest of the whole of humanity.

Love safeguards the interests of everyone. 

The consequences of wars are so tragic that we need to avoid them in all circumstances. Like the medical profession, politicians need to take an oath to do no harm. No harm to self, no harm to other human beings and no harm to Nature. If such an oath were to become an integral part of international law, Putin could not attack Ukraine. The USA could not attack Iraq. 

Hugely militarised nations live in constant fear and insecurity, forgetting that true security resides in trust, not tanks. Only the power of love can free them from fear of the other. 

When wars become unpopular, leaders are compelled to negotiate and compromise. Neither side gets their way. Both sides are forced to find a mutually acceptable solution. Why could they not do this in the first place? Why not find a negotiated agreement instead of all the deaths and destruction?  Peace is common sense, but conflicts and common sense don’t go together. Unfortunately, common sense is no longer so common!

If we harbour hatred for Putin in our hearts, we are victims of our own hatred. Therefore let us choose love in place of hatred. Hatred is not good for us. Our true self-interest and our true security are both embedded in love, not in hatred. This is tough love. I call it Radical Love. I know I am being an idealist, but the way of the pragmatists is causing chaos. So why not give idealism a chance? 

So yes, we need to love Putin, and we can love Putin. If we loved Putin, he would have no excuse to go to war. Love is unconditional, unlimited and abundant. Love is for all. Let us bring a monsoon of love to Moscow and soften the dry soul of Putin.

My message to Putin is the same: Stop war and try love.

And my message to Europeans and Americans is the same: Stop adding fuel to fire.

It is time to bring the rain of love, forgiveness and peace to the fire of war in Ukraine—a war that should never have been started. 

—Satish Kumar is the recipient of the Goi Peace Award 2022. His new book, Radical Love, is published by Parallax Press and is available now from www.resurgence.org/shop

This article was first published in Resurgence & Ecologist Issue 337, March/April 2023. Used with permission. All rights to this article are reserved to The Resurgence Trust. To buy a copy of the Resurgence magazine, read further articles or find out about the Trust, visit www.resurgence.org

Peace in Ukraine

Could we find a peaceful resolution to this conflict based on the Swiss model?

Recently I was on a Christian retreat in Switzerland with a group of young people. We were in a room overlooking Lake Geneva and the majestic Alps, yet everyone was worried about war in Ukraine. One of the young people present, a Swiss woman named Anne-Marie, appeared very sad to see so much suffering in Ukraine. “Ordinary families in their thousands are losing their homes and becoming refugees,” she said.

“The Americans fought wars in Vietnam, in Iraq and in Afghanistan. What did they achieve? Nothing!” another woman, Christèle, said. “What hope is there for the Russians and the Ukrainians to find any solution by killing one another?  This is so stupid! In the end they have to find a solution by negotiation. If they are going to talk and negotiate after so much killing and so much destruction why don’t they do that before those killings and before all that suffering?” 

“This is common sense, but common sense is no longer common!” came from the back of the room. It was a man called Michael who spoke. He added: “Of course in the end they have to find common ground and some common interest through negotiations. The Ukrainians and the Russians have to live next to each other. They are neighbours. They cannot change their  geography and their location!”

Anne-Marie answered: “Ukraine is a small country living beside a nuclear-armed Russia. Therefore Ukraine should not give Russia any excuse for aggression. Ukraine could and should follow the Swiss model.”  I was intrigued by this, so I asked her what she meant. She said: “Our country is not a member of NATO. We are not in the European Union. We are not in the Eurozone. We have our own currency. Yet we are able to trade with Europe as well as with the rest of the world. Why can’t Ukrainians do the same? Our country was neutral in the first world war and the second world war. Why can’t Ukrainians remain neutral and friendly with all countries? Switzerland has no enemies. All countries are our friends! That is what I call the Swiss model.”

“But hasn’t there been a long-standing dispute between the central government of Ukraine and its Russian-speaking population of the east and the south?” I asked. “Hasn’t there been an ongoing civil war between the Ukrainian-speaking and the Russian-speaking parts of the country? How do you bring reconciliation between them?”

Anne-Marie said: “Again they need to follow the Swiss model. We have four national languages – German, French, Italian and Romansh. They are all official Swiss languages. Ukraine could make Ukrainian and Russian two equally important official languages. Linguistic diversity should be celebrated. Multiple languages bring cultural richness. In Switzerland a large proportion of administrative functions are decentralised. We have 22 self-governing cantons. Each one of them has a great deal of autonomy. Many national issues are settled by referendum. Our prime ministers or presidents are not so important. Do you know who the president or prime minister of Switzerland is?”

“No, I don’t,” I replied.

“Why should you know?” responded Anne-Marie. “This is the Swiss model. Our constitution doesn’t give a huge amount of power to the central government. We live peacefully within our country and peacefully with our neighbours. Why can’t Ukraine do the same? War is not a solution.”

“But the Ukrainians say that this is ‘Putin’s war’,” I said. “The US and European governments, as well as much of the western media, believe that this is Putin’s war. What do you say to them?”

“It takes two to tango!” Anne-Marie replied. “The Russians blame the Ukrainians, and the Ukrainians blame the Russians. We have to rise above the blame game if we want peace. Both parties need to compromise! The word ‘compromise’ is misunderstood. In fact it is a positive concept. It means ‘promising together’. When two warring sides come together, they must stand on the middle ground and find their common interest and agree together, and then it is a true compromise.”

Anne-Marie took a deep breath. After a moment’s pause, she said: “I want to see the children of Ukraine united with their parents. I want to see millions of refugees going back to their homes. I want to see the old and the sick being taken care of. War is futile. No one will win. Everyone will lose. What is the point?” 

I was impressed by Anne-Marie’s account of the Swiss achievement in creating a peaceful, multilingual and multicultural country. I thought that this could be the way to peace not only in Ukraine, but in the whole world. 

We looked out at Lake Geneva and the amazing Alps. They were totally at peace! And in their subtle ways they too were calling for peace. 

—Satish Kumar is the Editor Emeritus of Resurgence Magazine, published from United Kingdom. He is the author of Pilgrimage for Peace, available from www.resurgence.org/shop Photo of Satish Kumar by Daniel Elkan. This article has been reproduced with permission from Resurgence & Ecologist Magazine, Issue #335.

The Cliffs of Moher, Ireland

History Comes Alive in St Augustine, Florida

Seeing the World on a Bicycle

Art in the Time of War: The Children of Zaporizhzhia

The Secret

A Joyous Celebration

Consumption

The Alchemy of Love

Peace in Ukraine