In tribute to Hal and Sidra Stone and in memorium to my father Hal Stone who left this world on May 23rd 2020
For My Father
For some a garden is a patch of land, a back yard, a planter box, a patio or a rooftop. A place for dogs to run, and for kids to play. But your garden was a gathering place, an outdoor salon, like Plato’s academy. And we, your students, would gather with you in circle three mornings a week. Even the apprentices of Jung and Freud couldn’t have felt more honored.
These circles held the depth of our inner work, with dives off the high-board into a vast pool of consciousness. In your garden we each got a chance to share a dream or work on an issue we might be struggling with in our lives. You worked your mastery. In the shade of the oversized cottonwood tree, you held each of us and we learned to hold each other.
I am honored to continue this journey with my stepmother Sidra Stone. We have walked individually and together as a triad and now we walk with such gratitude for the man she called her husband and partner and I called my father and best friend.
Your Inner Car?
of your Body