Two hard things happened after Bernie’s major stroke. The first was coming to grips with the fact that our life won’t be what it was. The second was bearing witness to the things my husband wanted or needed, and that I could not provide. In face of suffering and disappointment, my big challenge is not to react. There are unfulfilled wants and needs, curves no one expected. Cultivating curiosity about what’s around that bend has never been easy for me.” | “I have walked dogs while leaves are falling over many years. Stanley will be 13 shortly and I find myself wondering if this is his last fall, just as I wondered a few months ago if that was his last summer and I will probably ask the same question about winter when we walk on the snow. And I wonder what it would be like one day for both of us to lie down in the woods because we’re tired or our legs hurt, and never get up again.” | “Years ago I took a course on how to raise money. I was told that, when meeting a potential donor, the hardest thing isn’t to ask for a specific donation, the hardest thing is to ask and THEN SHUT UP. I can apply that lesson to the most mundane of circumstances: “How are you?” I ask someone. And now, Eve, shut up and listen.” | “Bernie’s physical therapist doesn’t want Bernie to favor the left leg, which he feels, over the right, which he can’t feel after the stroke: “Don’t stand on the leg you know can hold you,” he tells him. “Stand on the leg you don’t know can hold you.” Let go of what you know, the working limb that gives you confidence, and lean on the other side, the side you don’t trust, that you can barely make out is there.” | “I didn’t grow up on Mother Goose rhymes, I grew up on my mother’s stories of the Shoah and what she had had to do to survive. These were tales of death but also grit and courage, and they’ve influenced me from the time I was a girl.” | “Bernie was about to go out on an errand yesterday when I saw him standing at the door, his funny hat framing a sweet and happy face. I tried to capture the image right there, not a great photo by any means, just a casual, intimate moment that I may go back to years hence to remember how happy we were.” | “Nothing deters Stanley and me from our daily expeditions to the woods, not even shooting and the occasional glimpses of men in hunting gear with guns.” | “I am an immigrant, having come to the US at the age of 7. I remember tiptoeing silently down the hallway back then and listening to my parents talk in their bedroom about money, about how to pay bills and afford schoolbooks and clothes. Often the words they repeated were: What will happen?”


Like so many others, I saw the Cathedral of Notre Dame burning. I’d been there a number of times, always followed by a stop at George Whitman’s Shakespeare and Company bookshop. I admired its architecture and size, and always I would look up in search of its famous inhabitant, the Hunchback.

But I can’t say I was moved to tears like so many other people. I looked at the pictures of the burning cathedral and whispered: It’s the people, don’t forget. It’s the people.

Maybe it’s my Jewish heritage. Jews were usually not permitted to build synagogues during the time they were in the Diaspora, certainly not big ones, and they got accustomed to creating more modest dwellings for God. We grew up knowing that if the big temple was gone from Jerusalem, angels still visited every home on the Sabbath Eve on Friday night, and that God dwelt in tiny shtiebel-like shuls as well as the larger synagogues. They couldn’t combine art, architecture, engineering, glassmaking, frescos, sculpture, tapestries, etc. to make anything like a big cathedral. They had to lie low, be humble.

I’ve sat in Notre Dame and in its cousin, Chartres, as well as the Cathedral in Cologne and St. Patrick’s in Manhattan, and admired the big elephants coming down the nave of St. John the Divine in Upper Manhattan on St. Francis Day. What I most remember were small lunch breaks spent sitting in the back of Trinity Church at the top of Wall Street and walking on the paths of the adjoining cemetery.

When I read of all the hundreds of millions of dollars promised to rebuild Notre Dame, what came up for me was: What about the people?

Early this morning I returned to the basement to search for the elusive title to Bernie’s car. I had already gone through many boxes, but they feel like sand in the Sahara, there’s always more. In one box I opened a folder marked Personal and out tumbled aerogrammes. Aerogrammes, for you younger citizens of the world, are letters written on thin blue paper that went by air, getting to the reader within some 10 days, a big deal in the age before emails and Facebook Messages.

Several came from H. Maezumi and they started: Dear Bernie. I did a double-take; Maezumi Roshi, one of the Zen pioneers who brought Zen from Japan to the United States, never addressed his student by the name Bernie. That’s when I realized how old these letters were, they were written before Bernie’s ordination in 1970, when he became Tetsugen. And in fact, in one of the letters Maezumi Roshi wrote that he is getting the tokudo (priest ordination) papers ready for the ceremony.

In that very letter Maezumi Roshi discussed at great length Bernie’s search for “a New Center,” which I believe referred to Bernie’s search for a retreat center site in Santa Barbara. Responding to Bernie’s letter to him in which he described all these efforts, Maezumi Roshi talked about the road that needed to be added, blueprints for the buildings, rooms for staff, bringing a special architect from Japan, the correct time to fundraise in Japan, etc. But at the end of the letter he writes the following:

“HOWEVER, PLEASE DO NOT FORGET [caps are his] that my major concern is to have the handful, even less, truly awakened dharma successers [sic] in the United States before I leave this world. In order to do so, if it is necessary, I do not mind to sacrifice even a new center. Do you know what I mean? We should make future plans along with this very fundamental and important requirement. If we have the true men, necessary things will follow them. Big harvest will come in hand if the seeds are carefully taken care of for necessary time to ripe. It is a very simple fact.”

The blog is on retreat till early next week.


The Dogs of the Kiskadee Hills: Hunt for the Lynx begins a trilogy about a society of dogs after humans have destroyed themselves and much of the world. Living with their families and clans in the Kiskadee Hills, they’ve developed over generations a rich tradition and way of life, and have prospered. But now, an unknown killer is butchering the Kisdees of the Hills.

Academy Award-winning actor Jeff Bridges says: “You will never look at dogs the same again. Eve Marko gives us a story that explores the path that life on our planet has taken, and asks what your role in that course might be.”


Eve Marko - Bearing Witness

To bear witness to anything is to be as close to it as possible.

It’s not to read books or see movies about it, it’s not to have an opinion or tell a story. It’s to let go of all ideas about it—be in the space of not-knowing—and simply be there, up close and deeply personal.

Eve has been involved with the Zen Peacemaker Order’s Bearing Witness Retreats—in places of suffering and conflict since her first visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau.

There have been 20 retreats at the site of those concentration camps since, along with retreats in Bosnia, Rwanda and the Black Hills of South Dakota, near the Pine Ridge Reservation.

Upcoming Bearing Witness Retreats:

Bosnia, May 2016 (Please email for details)


Eve Marko

Eve Marko is a writer of fiction and nonfiction, head teacher at the Green River Zen Center in Massachusetts, and a Founding Teacher of the Zen Peacemaker Order.

She has trained spiritually-based social activists and peacemakers in the US, Europe and the Middle East alongside her husband, Bernie Glassman, and has been a Spiritholder at retreats bearing witness to genocide at Auschwitz-Birkenau, Rwanda, the Black Hills in South Dakota, and Bosnia. Before that she worked at the Greyston Mandala for a decade, which provides housing, child care, jobs, and AIDS-related medical services in Yonkers, New York.

Eve’s articles on social activists have appeared in the magazines Tikkun and Shambhala Sun, and her collection for lay Zen practitoners, The Book of Householder Koans, will come out in late 2016. Her great love, Hunt for the Lynx, the first in her fantasy trilogy, The Dogs of the Kiskadee Hills, will come out in early 2016.

“When I was a young girl my dream was to be a hermit, live alone, and write serious literature. That’s not how things turned out. I got involved with people. I got involved in the world.

Two things matter to me right now: the creative spark and the aliveness of personal connection. In some way, they both come down to the same thing.”