Bernie Glassman hersenbloeding

Bernie Glassman
Foto Joan Halifax

Op dinsdag 12 januari jl. heeft Bernie Glassman, grondlegger van de Zen Peacemakers, een hersenbloeding gekregen. Hij is bij bewustzijn. Spreken gaat moeizaam en hij kan de rechterkant van zijn lichaam nauwelijks gebruiken. De uitzichten op grotendeels herstel zijn goed. Steek een kaarsje aan voor hem, als je wilt.

Updates over Bernie’s gezondheid zullen wij hier onder plaatsen:

Update 26 februari 2016

By Eve Marko

We made it home.

Two inches of snow and a tenth of an inch of ice spreading over New England were nothing in the face of all the good wishes and resolve that took us up from the Weldon Rehabilitation Hospital in Springfield up to Montague, where a small Disorderly crowd gave us a loving and colorful welcome.

Bernie’s Strong Women of Weldon—Tara, Janet, and Kelly—all came by not just to say goodbye, but to congratulate him on all that he has accomplished in the 5+ weeks that he was there. To say that Bernie talks is an understatement. He spiels, orates, schmoozes, and basically can’t shut up. He came home in a wheelchair, but is able to rise up to most occasions and his right leg is getting stronger every day. Walking without human assistance and stairs are next on the list.

I can’t say enough about the staff of the Weldon Rehabilitation Hospital, comprising the Strong Women (and Men), therapists,nurses, aides, and doctors. They have been responsive, skillful, and unbelievably caring. A minute before Bernie arrived at the front door to get into the car, an ambulance stopped and two men took a man inside on a stretcher who seemed to have no awareness of where he was and what had happened. I pointed him out to Bernie and said, “This is how you came into Weldon.” I hope and pray that the man I saw will leave Weldon at least in the state that Bernie is leaving; certainly if the staff has any say about it, he will.

The work doesn’t stop. In addition to home therapy and care that Bernie will get, he has his own Strong Men and Woman here in the form of Rami Efal, Godfried de Waele and Mariola Wereszka. The last two especially are here from Europe to support his rehabilitation, while Rami continues to connect us to the world, not to mention coordinating retreats and other events.

Since Bernie is now stable (did I really say that?), I will no longer post updates on Bernie’s health on the Caring Bridge website. Depending on how things develop, Rami may post on the Zen Peacemakers website news of how he’s doing.

While there were only five of us at the Welcome Home dinner this evening (along with Stanley the dog), I felt the presence of multitudes—all of you—who have sent us countless communications, words of encouragement, love and support that have made all the difference in the world. Among all those words, it’s hard for me now to find the words that capture how much we needed and appreciated the tsunami of positive energy and wishes you released on all our behalf. May it rebound back to you, and may it also ricochet everywhere to all the beings in need of succor, sustenance, and love.


Update 19 februari 2016

By Eve Marko

Bernie came home today. No, not permanently, just temporarily, followed by two of his Strong Women to check out whether our house is suitable for him. Before that, Rami, Godfried, Mariola (the last two arrived Monday evening to help us out), and our friend Tim changed a beautiful office on the ground floor into a beautiful bedroom, and a ramp was installed in our garage, which Stanley the dog decided to boycott.

I think both Bernie and I were somewhat nervous on the drive up. No matter what good work had been done to adapt the house, there were going to be gaps. More to the point, Mr. Independence had left the house on the afternoon of January 12 after a morning of walking freely and talking voluminously, while Mrs. Independence was glad to take care of her own needs knowing the Mr. was taking care of his. A learning curve is ahead for both Independents.

As soon as we arrived and the car door opened, Stanley leaped in and licked Bernie’s beard, and would have continued for the next hour if we’d let him. After that it was transition to wheelchair, up the ramp and into the kitchen. Cappuccino was next on the list. He investigated his new bedroom, oblivious to the hundred birds feeding at the three bird feeders hanging outside the room’s six windows but paying particular attention to his 50” TV screen. We practiced various transfers (chair/car, car/chair, chair/bed, bed/chair, chair/another chair, etc.), folded away a few rugs, and all the while Bernie talked a mile a minute to his Strong Women, pointing out to them various photos and books. It was fun to show them that yes, he had a life outside of Weldon Rehabilitation Hospital (one of them had noticed his strong concentration the other day and wondered if he did yoga or meditation).

He went back, tired. Ahead are several more days of strong rehabilitation of his right arm and leg, more adventures with walking and stairs. And Wednesday, February 24: home.

Update 15 februari 2016

By Eve Marko

I’m so moved when I saw the photos that Peter Cunningham, known also by his Disorderly name as Kuku, took of Bernie when he went to visit him this past weekend. In the television screen next to Bernie’s head, a news anchor is very earnestly talking of a new cold war with Russia. Back home, Bernie and I don’t have television so we never see the news, but Bernie has had lots of opportunities to watch CNN at Weldon.

Speaking of back home, we’re beginning the final stage of acute rehab, which will end when Bernie returns home on February 24, we hope. I make plans for installing handrails and renting a ramp (it’s only temporary, I tell him). On Friday we’ll have a site visit from two of Bernie’s Strong Women, Tara and Janet, who will tell us what other adjustments we should make.

“Don’t worry about any of that,” I tell Bernie, “your job is simple. Use every single day here to get stronger.”

And he does. Bernie still needs assistance to walk, but he has begun a new adventure with stairs. Nothing has improved as much as his talking—why doesn’t that surprise me?—and now I arrive to get peppered with questions: Did you remember to contact so-and-so in Europe? What about the meeting in our house in April? What about the dentist?

He’s even getting picky about the home-made food I bring him. Beef stew is fine, but not with quinoa. And, he reminded Tara, he can’t do physical therapy at 1:30 because that’s when Weldon is sponsoring do-it-yourself sundaes in honor of Valentine’s Day.

“No problem,” the indefatigable Tara tells him. “You can make your sundae while standing on your own with no help from me.” He makes a face but she’s relentless. “We can create therapy out of anything,” she assures him.

Whenever Kuku visits he never comes with empty hands. He created a short visual bio for Bernie, reminding him of his life just in case he forgot. Here it is:

Update 11 februari 2016

By Eve Marko

When I come in in the mornings Bernie is chatting a mile a minute. Well, 100 yards a minute, but clearly and coherently. He finishes telling me something. “Well?”

I grin. “I think you’re talking awfully well.”

“Yes, but what do you think about what I said?”

“Who cares? The main thing is, you’re talking.” I never thought I’d ever say anything like that.

Bernie is now scheduled to come home on February 24. No, not to a second rehab facility, but home. Till then, the Strong Women are going to work him like he’s never worked in his life.

“I’m too tired,” he wails to First Strong Woman and main physical therapist, Tara, who’s telling him to take one step up from where he’s standing at the foot of the stairs in the gym.

“You know something,” says the First Strong Woman, “it’s exactly when you’re tired that the brain stops resisting and you learn new things.” Hee hee, I laugh inside, recalling the tough Zen sesshins Bernie, a/k/a Tetsugen, ran years ago so that the brain could stop resisting, etc.

Just when he thinks he’s done, he’s taken out into the hallway to practice walking. Second Strong Woman Lauren is there to help him move his right leg while First SW, Tara, is there to support him generally as,holding on to a rail, he will take one slow step after the other.

“I’ve already done so much,” he tells Lauren.

“Excuses already? Not a good sign. Let’s see if you can make it to the Exit sign.” He makes it to the Exit sign. “Okay, now let’s see you make it to the green bulletin board.”

But there’s a great reward at the end: Tuna fish sandwich for lunch. Bernie has been approved to eat solid food.

“I brought you beef stew with quinoa which I made fresh this morning,” I grouse. But he’s already wolfing down the tuna fish sandwich because he knows that in just 30 minutes, in will come Third Strong Woman and main occupational therapist Janet.

No compassion from anyone.

Update 6 februari 2016

By Eve Marko

A few days ago Bernie’s physical therapist talked to us about Bernie not going home upon his discharge date from Weldon’s acute rehabilitation program, and instead going to another sub-acute center for further physical and speech therapy. She explained that this was for his own good because, while he was making slow and steady progress day after day, he needed still more and would get better, more frequent, and consistent therapeutic services at a center rather than at home.

I could immediately see the deep disappointment on his face. He’s been away from home now for over 3 weeks. “You feel bad?” I asked.

He nodded. “I wanted to come home,” and turned to his side to look out the window.

It was still warm in Springfield and we went out to the porch. Wearing his favorite red beret, he mimed lighting up a cigar, then grew thoughtful. A big stroke isn’t something to put behind you after a month, but something that will be with you for the rest of your life. With both of us. He won’t be coming home so soon, and when he does, home will probably be different from the home he left.

Where is he now? Where does he find himself in the long arc of a life devoted to doing and teaching? I watch him going deep inside, and I wonder what he thinks.

Update 3 februari 2016

By Eve Marko

The other day it hit 50 degrees Fahrenheit in Springfield. I come in to visit Bernie holding his jacket and say, “Let’s go outside!” He gives me the same look he’s always given me each time I suggest exercise, so I’m careful not to use the “H” word (as in, fresh air is healthy for you!). The nurse agrees it’s a great idea, especially as Bernie hasn’t been out since January 12. She helps him into his winter jacket, which I zip up, and we’re off in the wheel chair, down the hallway, down the elevator, and out through the front door of Weldon. Ahead of us is the pathway to the big Mercy Hospital, built by the wonderful Sisters of Providence Order, whose youngest member, I’m told, is 75.

“Isn’t this great?” I chirp.

Silence from the wheelchair. A left hand climbs up surreptitiously and winds the collar tighter around his throat. We move towards the front entrance, nothing much to see other than the big parking lot on the left, but the air is amiable, the skies gray.

“I want to go back,” he tells me.

“Back! We haven’t even been out 3 minutes!”

“I’m cold.”

“How can you be cold?” He’s wearing the same old green jacket he wears at our retreats at Poland, along with a thick woolen hat, while half the folks around us are down to shorts and short-sleeve Tees, which is what happens in Massachusetts every time temperatures climb over 40.

“Cold. Need my red beret.”

I forgot that Bernie feels practically naked without his red beret.

We enter the hospital and I take him down the elevator to the basement connecting the hospital with Weldon. We’re completely alone. “Race?” I suggest, he smiles, and I run pushing the wheelchair down the two long corridors.

Back in his room I show him emails with songs from his Washington grandson Milo and photos of Ethan, Rebecca and Shai, his grandchildren in Jerusalem. We talk about plans for the Black Hills retreat in July. He reads certain emails, face moving left to right with the text because the corner of his right eye is still blurry from the stroke.

He’s happy to read announcements: meetings of ZPO regional circles, the initiative to go to Greece in April to work with immigrants. There’s a street retreat in Albuquerque, council training in Paris, a new circle on Art and the Three Tenets, the odd couple of Rabbi Shir and Sensei Paco going to Arizona to talk about our bearing witness retreats, and most important, an initiative to do selfies while putting on a red nose. He’s happy and forlorn at the same time, shaking his head. “I’m not involved,” he says sadly.

Update: 30 januari 2016

By Eve Marko

Bernie is feeling better these past few days. Hydration more stable, health more stable. He’s gone back to doing physical and speech therapies. I watch today as, holding on with his left hand to a bar, he begins to move slowly forward, the therapist rolling on a chair alongside him and moving Bernie’s right leg forward, encouraging Bernie not to favor the working left leg but to also lean into the right. “Don’t wait for the brain to figure it out, Bernie, you do it and the brain will figure it out later, you just do it.”

Just what we need, another Zen master.

Yesterday Bernie went over lots of Get Well and Happy Birthday cards that had come in over the previous week or two—and I mean lots. There are, of course, cards from people he knows, but the ones that move me the most—and there are many—invariably start out like this: “You don’t know me, but—” or “You don’t remember me, but—“ and then proceed to tell him that they read his books, attended a talk some 25 years ago, or basically have just followed his work for a long time, and how much this has meant to them over the years. They are from around the world, some even scrawled first in a foreign language and then translated into English, letting him know that he has inspired or helped them at a critical time in their lives, and now they wish him a full recovery. A few also share with him their history of stroke and what they found useful.

Of course, I start wondering who all the women are: “Who is this woman, Bernie?” “And this one?” “And this one?” He gives his one-shoulder shrug, spared from having to respond, lucky man. At least they didn’t send photos.

Update: 27 januari 2016

By Eve Marko

Bernie’s last several days have been tired and a little uneven. He has trouble getting enough liquids into his body and his kidneys need to be monitored due to his Diabetes 2. He also has become fatigued sooner and for longer periods than last week. There is nothing dire about this, I’m assured it’s part of a long recovery path. Usually he seems quite comfortable but hasn’t engaged with therapists or family as strongly as last week.

A wonderful Tibetan doctor will visit him tomorrow morning for extra help and support, for which I’m very grateful. Rami, returning from Pine Ridge, brought back medicine from a medicine man in S. Dakota, for which we are also deeply grateful—and for all your cards, calls, and emails, which we can’t answer individually but rather with a giant collective thank you.

Below is a photo of stuff Mr. YooWho sent the Boobysattva, or as he’s known now, Babysattva: a couple of red noses from Clowns Without Borders, a head-bopper, bubbles–but what’s the gray blob, YooWho?

Update: 23 januari 2016

By Eve Marko

I am glad to report to you that after five days at the Weldon Rehabilitation Hospital, Bernie is still—Bernie. “Bernie” less movement on the right side of his body, less some comprehension, less many words and names, but still with lots of eyebrow-furrowing personality.

The therapists—strong women who boss him around—confirmed that there is movement in his right side, but the communication between brain and muscles has short-circuited. He is able to move his right leg and arm a little. It’s going to take practice, they tell him, many many repetitions and a lot of hard work. Over many years I’ve heard Bernie say that his personal work lies in the Padma family, meaning the energy of relationship and communication, and here he has a chance to work some more.

He has his ups and he has his downs. His speech can be very slurred at times, and then suddenly be crystal clear. There are days when improvement is undeniable, and there are days when he wonders. “This is a real plunge,” I say. Yes, he agrees. “Not like the ones you’ve designed.” No, not like those at all.

He’s thinking of the meeting at Pine Ridge this weekend with Lakota elders to plan the summer retreat, which we were to attend. He’s aware of meetings of the Zen Peacemaker Order. He continues to try to contain all the vision, ideas, and plans that have always populated his mind, and then, tired,he lets go.

He talks about the first three days after the stroke, when he was pretty sure he was going away: “And then I came back,” he remembers clearly.  “Why did you come back?” I ask him. This time he doesn’t give a one-shoulder shrug, just nods quietly, resting in not-knowing.

A new phase began this weekend: Visitors. Just a couple, gently and very,very gradually, sitting down and talking quietly with Bernie.  Too early to tell if he can sustain this, we’ll decide on Monday. Please do not go to visit him on your own; instead check with me.

With full hearted thanks from Bernie, his family and myself for all you have done and continue to do for him.

Update: 19 januari 2016

By Eve Marko

Bernie has now spent 2 days in the Weldon Rehab Hospital, and is working harder than he’s ever worked in his life. He has speech, occupational, and physical therapy, and the therapists run him ragged. He can maneuver the TV set; I knew something definitive occurred the morning I came in and saw him watching Donald Trump speak at Liberty University on CNN.

He continues an ongoing discussion with his right hand. “I-told-her-to-pick-up-my-glasses-and-put-them-on-my-face.” Shrugs. “Nothing.”

I tell him he should stop referring to his disobedient right side as “her,” or at least alternate genders.

He slaps his right arm with his left hand. “Stupid,” and sticks out his tongue.

He has difficulties understanding some things, and after the first 7-8 words the words begin to slur. Then he tells me that he has a new idea, his head settles, eyes focused, and goes into a strategic discussion about his next book whose words I lose after a few minutes. The shifts can be breathtaking.

We bear witness to loss; I experience grief. Bernie isn’t much for emoting, so it’s hard to say just what he feels. Certainly no self-pity, very little frustration or impatience. “Start again and speak slower.” He shrugs, and starts again.

“They-say-I-will-get-stronger,” he mouths, then leans back and repeats his favorite Shlomo Karlbach phrase: “One-day-one-day.”

He hears about all your prayers and good wishes, nods in quiet thanks.

Going through all this, we’re still aware of how much we have, the benefits of great medicine, immeasurable kindness of doctors, nurses, and aides, so much support from all of you, even the fact that I can spend time with him instead of running off to work. Today I brought with me a red Buddhai mage to leave at the bedside of the Cambodian monk who was Bernie’s roommate at Baystate Hospital. The two men were separated by a curtain, one with an unmoving right side, the other with no movement on either side; the one with family and arms reaching out to him across the planet, the other alone except for the deep love of one grandson visiting for a short time each evening. Today I found out that both left the hospital the same day, Bernie to Rehab, the monk beyond.

Update: 17 januarI 2016

Thousand Arms of Boobysattva
By Rami Efal

“Oy vey” Bernie muttered over the mushroom soup at lunch dripping down his beard. His speech is clearer when his energy is up, and along with talking about the state of work he is very concerned about the recent cigar order that’s been sitting in the post office. To stay fresh they need to go into a humidifier — STAT — which, our dedicated nurse Catia explained, is faster than ASAP.

Saturday, Bernie spoke with Marc his son on the phone, and Alisa, Eve and myself were all struck by the candidness and vulnerability in his voice. Later that evening Alisa left back to DC and will return to his side soon.

This morning Sunday, He read Eve’s written updates and chuckled. We acknowledge this simple act being an unimaginable progress over the first few days after the stroke. He read some of the comments and emails he received and leaned back, seemed tired, and, we suspected, moved.

The doctor prescribed him to exercise his right arm. Many of us have heard Bernie teach using his body — how Mary and Joe, his two arms, are part of Bernie, the whole – so they care for one another. Today he turned to Joe, warm but limp on his right, and called out ‘Hey! Tip’sha (Hebrew for silly)! Move!’ Eve and Bernie laughed. He dons Boobysttava’s clown voice and goes into a fascinating, and hilarious, dharma spiel. Eve, assuming a challenging tone and pointing at his arm, asked: ‘If you can’t feel it, is it still part of you?’ They exchanged a glance. Then Bernie raised his working left arm, reached over and lifted the other – pushing and pulling – doctor’s orders.

We were getting ready to leave. A young RN pops into the room and gasshos to Bernie – “You did it to me yesterday coming out of the MRI, so I wanted to return the favor.”

The old Cambodian man in the bed next to Bernie, we learned, was a Buddhist monk who had been living for years at the Peace Pagoda in Leveret MA. Each day, his grandson hitchhikes three hours back and forth to see him. We saw no other visitors. Several flower vases arrived for Bernie. They really lit the room up. One was sent by Claude Anshin Thomas, a Zen Priest and a Vietnam vet, who began his work with Bernie on a pilgrimage organized by the Peace Pagoda in ‘96. We nodded acknowledging the coincidence and placed Anshin’s vase by the monk’s bed. Bernie was waiting out on a stretcher. Leaving the room, Eve turned to the sleeping man, gently touched his left shoulder, and bowed.

Bernie said goodbye to the terrific doctors, nurses and technicians at Baystate Health Neuroscience care unit and on Sunday afternoon he was transferred to Weldon Rehabilitation Center in Springfield MA. He will stay here for at least a few weeks. Tomorrow Monday morning, his 77th Birthday, Bernie will start acute rehab (Bernie:“oh boy” – rolling eyes,) with occupational, speech and physical therapy.

While not seeing visitors Bernie could use all the encouragement we can muster as he enters rehab. So please, send him a happy birthday card or photo to, post it on his Facebook page, or send it POBOX 294 Montague MA 01351. Flowers or pureed meatball grinders can be sent to Weldon Rehabilitation Hospital 233 Carew St, Springfield, MA 01104, Room 405. If you wish to send an encouragement to his Cambodian neighbor at Baystate Hospital Neuroscience Care, the room is 5152A.

Bernie, Eve, Alisa, Marc and Rami would like to repeat our gratitude for the support and many prayers for Bernie’s quick recovery. Thank you.

Update: 15 januari 2016

The Dude Says: “Lotta Ins, Lotta Outs, Lotta What-Have-You’s”
By Eve Marko

In the morning Bernie seems rested and not much changed from yesterday. Soon he, Alisa and Eve are greeted by Mark Keroack, President/CEO of Baystate Hospital, accompanied by senior staff, wanting to make sure Bernie’s getting the quality care he needs. We have no trouble assuring him that his staff and hospital are terrific. After that, terrific specialists examine Bernie’s body-mind, he gets that “too many people” look on his face again and says little. They’re satisfied with his progress, but we feel he may have slid back a little from yesterday.

Afternoon: Nap, lunch, and picture time. Alisa shows him photos of his family of origin: parents, four older sisters, aunts and cousins.Bernie points at each and calls them by name: Edith, Bea, Selma, Sally, my mother (who died when he was 7), my father. The photo you see is of him surrounded by four adoring sisters who came to part from him when he sailed to Israel in the early 1960s. “Where were you going?” we ask. “Ship,” he replies. He studies each photo carefully, telling tales of his Communist aunts of whom he’s very proud. We follow most of it.

He asks Rami about who’s attending the planning meeting for the Black Hills summer retreat (he and Eve had to cancel).

He begins to tease his nurse. She asks him: “Do you know your name?” “Yes,” he answers, and nothing more. She shakes her head. “Funny man!” Alisa says that soon we should ask you to offer prayers for the nursing staff taking care of Bernie as well as for Bernie. At some point he chats so much, lots of it quite coherent, that we wonder whether it’s really such a good idea for him to learn to talk again.

Other times he subsides into a tired silence, or else the words are too slurred for our ears. The right side of his body is still fairly—well—still. Still no better antidote to expectations than reality.

But when the staff takes him down for an MRI he thanks them with a half-gassho, which we explain is a gesture of respect and appreciation. “I thought he was trying to shake my hand,” the young aide says. “This I like better.”

So much appreciation to all of you for your thoughts, wishes, meditations and prayers. Bernie shares a room with a Cambodian man who’s been there for 2 months with only a grandson who visits him for a brief period each evening, otherwise he’s asleep all day with no family or friends to watch over him. I wish we knew his name, perhaps tomorrow. Please watch over him, too, along with Bernie.

Update: 14 januari 2016

Dear Family and Friends,

Bernie suffered a stroke on Tuesday 1/12/2016 around 1pm EST. He spent 36 hours in Intensive Care, was “downgraded” to Neurological Intensive, and as of this evening was “downgraded” again to a regular hospital room in Baystate Health Springfield Hospital. His condition is stable and the plan is for him to enter an acute rehab program, probably early next week, for a period of 2-4 weeks. The stroke, due to a hemorrhage, affected the left side of his brain, thus resulting in very little movement in the entire right side of his body and also undermining his speech, which is now so slurred that we can only understand around 20% of it (a substantial improvement over Tuesday). No change to his eyebrows.

We are immensely grateful to Baystate Hospital and all its staff for superb care of Bernie and patient and honest interactions with us. The Montague town police and ambulances came some 10 minutes after we first called, and Bernie got “anti-stroke” medications within 30 minutes of the stroke itself, a great tribute to these first responders. This quality care continued in Franklin Medical, our local adjunct hospital, and then in the far larger Baystate in Springfield.
Bernie has his struggles. His understanding of words, too, is diminished but doctors expect that to be fully remedied. When there are too many doctors around him he mumbles “too many people” and wants them to leave him alone. But nobody’s second-guessing the wonderful and loving care he’s getting here at Baystate. Yesterday, the day after his stroke, our alarm went off for the noon minute of silence for peace. He lay quietly, and then, with difficulty, raised his good hand in half-gassho.
Right now the prognosis for recovery from neurologists and rehabilitation doctors is good to very good; healers and prophets are saying excellent. They expect some permanent deficits in his right arm and hand, a little less in his right leg, and they believe his speech will begin to improve within 2-4 weeks (we don’t know if that’s good or bad). They believe he will become independent and self-sufficient within several months, and cantankerous and bossy in 4 days.
Alisa Glassman, Bernie’s daughter, flew in from Washington, D.C. and she and his wife Eve Marko are by his side. Marc Glassman, Bernie’s son, lives in Jerusalem and was in constant contact. They are supported by local Zen Peacemaker Order members, by the Green River Zen community, by Pioneer Valley friends, and of course by Rami Efal, Bernie’s assistant and spokesman to the world. Grant Couch and Chris Panos, president and chairman of Zen Peacemakers Inc. have a been a tremendous support behind the scenes in keeping the ZP operations flowing.
We are grateful for everyone’s patience through the first 48 hours of the event as we were waiting for Bernie’s condition to stabilize. We are also deeply moved by the outpouring of love and support Bernie has been receiving, on social media, phone calls, dedications and prayer of Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, Native American, and religious traditions we didn’t even know of, all elements of Bernie world (for example, watch a Jewish Cantor lead a hip-hop reggae chanting of a healing Jewish prayer at the Sivananda Yoga Ashram on behalf of this Zen Buddhist teacher, then followed by their own Hindu prayers on his behalf). And of course, there’s also Krishna Das’s “Bernie’s Chalisa,” theme music for feeding the hungry spirits which many of you know but is great to listen to anyway when it’s KD chanting it..
We have created this Caring-Bridge page where you can leave Bernie a message. We will post updates there and it will also allow Bernie to easily browse and enjoy your words, especially when he begins rehab, which he’ll probably hate every minute of. That’s when your words and blessings–yes, even you Order of Disorder folks–will be a most important incentive.
Bernie’s 77th Birthday will occur this Monday on January 18th, 2016. Let’s celebrate with him!  If you wish to send him get well cards / happy birthday cards (okay, OD ones too), please do so to

Zen Peacemakers, ATTN: BERNIE
POBOX 294, Montague MA 01351

With deep gratitude to all of you,
Eve, Alisa, Marc, Rami and the Zen Peacemaker Family