Author(s): Trudy Myrrh Reagan

Dear Friends: We needed to learn the struggle of Quaker Alice Herz, who died in 1965. Without warning, we are plunged into her story by the poem “Ten Days,” found in the Jan/Feb 2019 issue of Western Friend.

Harsh was the burden of the holocaust upon her, harsh her inability to stop the juggernaut of wars. So acutely did it weigh on her, she burned herself alive. Carlos Valentin does not intend to hold her up as a model; but by his harsh poem, he brings her pain and sorrow... Read more.

Author(s): Carla Green

Dear Editor: I am saddened by your increasing use of web sites for you publication. Like nearly half of Americans, I cannot afford a computer system and, as we age out, that number will increase. This is a new form of classism and exclusion. My understanding of Quakerism is to be in the world but not of it – and to strive for simplicity.

Also, I am appalled that you included the poem “Ten Days” in the Jan/Feb 2019 issue of Western Friend, which is a publication for peace-... Read more.

Author(s): Sonja Feinberg

Dear Friends: We are proud to be entering our fourteenth year of Camp Woolman.  Our campers play silly games, make friends, garden, backpack in diverse landscapes, learn about peace and community, and drop all pretenses to let their inner light shine through. Our community is uniquely close-knit

Camp Woolman offers 1-2 week overnight programs for kids age 9-14 and teens age 15-17. Our vegetarian meals are often made with ingredients right from the our Farm.

Our counselors... Read more.

Author(s): Suzanne Aboulfadl

Dear Friends: I have just read Pendle Hill Pamphlet #450, Pamela Haines’s “Money and Soul,” and I encourage Friends to read it. It’s based on a talk that the author gave at Intermountain Yearly Meeting in 2017 (which was published by Western Friend; see: Haines packs much that is central to economic justice into this little pamphlet – both on the institutional/systemic and the individual levels. The latter often seems more... Read more.

Author(s): Suzanne Simons
Author(s): Geoff Poole

“I started studying rivers pretty late in life,” says the ebullient voice of my mid-20s-research-technician-self. “Actually, I got a master’s degree in Forestry first.”

“Twenty-five isn’t so late,” grumbles the wearier voice of my mid-50s-professor-self.

Ten address changes, two divorces, and almost thirty years as a river ecologist separate my dueling – or perhaps “dualing” – perspectives. I consider the timespan and the passages that separate these two selves. The changes... Read more.

Author(s): Carl Magruder

The broad brim of my plain hat shades my face and neck from the relentless Arizona sun as my old mule packer’s boots crunch along a dry creek bed. A small band of us, strangers just days before, are holding what my journal describes as “Meeting for Worship on the Occasion of the Sonoran Desert.” We are a delegation of the Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT). Our ages span five decades, we are more women than men, we are citizens of four nations, and our faith walks include Judaism, agnosticism... Read more.

Author(s): Bethany Lee

Sierra Cascades banner cropped.png

I stood at the tiny counter of the ship’s galley, kneading flour into dough, then stepped out and scooped up a bit more water from the sparkling sea. This far out from land, we hoarded our fresh-water supply and used seawater as much as possible. The salinity was tough on the skin, but perfect for boiling pasta and... Read more.

Author(s): john heid

Psalm 46:10

Desert-plant_2_0.jpgBe still and know that I am.
That I am here.
That I am sacred.
That I am what you carry.
That I am. . . Water.
Holy Water.

I walked.
With gallons of water stuffed in my backpack.
And much weightier matters pulsing through my head.
People have died here for want of... Read more.

Author(s): Eleanor Dart
Desert Waters

The Bellagio casino glimmers
above a round blue lake.
Outside the Tropicana
waterfalls pour over fake rocks.

All night under the desert moon
the profligate water splashes,
sparkling like silver coins.

Four hundred miles south
three braceros lie down to die
beside empty plastic bottles.

The moonlight gleams on
their soft brown faces, glints in
their lost dark eyes.

... Read more.


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