Articles and Published Work
| Sharon Snir -Curriculum Vitae CurriculumVitae An Auschwitz Experience http://www.g-gej.org/5-3/auschwitz.html An Interview with Edwin Nevis http://www.gestaltreview.com/Default.aspx?tabid=75 A Response from a Kabbalistic Perspective to "The Spiritual Dimensions of Gestalt Therapy" http://www.g-gej.org/4-3/kabbala.html Fold Of Time http://www.g-gej.org/7-1/poetry.html What is Good Therapy http://www.sharonsnir.com/pdfs/GoodTherapy.pdf The 12 Levels of BEING Published by Shakhina Books 2007 Available from Amazon.com, Gleebooks, Adyar Bookshop and www.triunehealing.org Passionate Finesse Droplets of exquisite moments Crystallized for all time. They be as one grain of sugar, Touching and then Transforming A galaxy. A word, a smile, a nod warms hearts soothes souls. The alchemy of being met. reverberating, resonating, Far beyond droplets of exquisite moments Change " Most everything in the Universe changes with age: Stars consume their fuel and die: the Earth loses its atmosphere by evaporation into space and ultimately will become an airless, dead, planet and we, as humans grow wrinkled and wise." Kip S. Thorne (Black Holes and Time Warps) Change never takes no for an answer. Whether we are ready or not change will take us by the hand and dance us to its own rhythm, be that a Foxtrot, a Tango or a Waltz. And when change occurs with a clash of cymbals, a roar of timpani, or the deafening silence between, we know the moment, this moment, has caught our attention. Some see change as "too fast' or "too slow". Some of us resist change while others jump into the abyss with wild abandon. Change brings out the best and the worst in us. We resist it, long for it, dread it and love it. All depending on our present circumstances and the moment in which we notice its arrival. For although change is ever present, we only notice it when the comfortable rhythm to which we have been dancing, suddenly shifts. Realising the Obvious Realising the obvious can be surprisingly gratifying. The first thing to change was the horizon. It became almost imperceptibly orange and within seconds there was no doubt. Light oozes into the night. The colours of dawn have been described by countless souls and it is not the dawn which strikes me this morning as I sit outside, bidding farewell to the stars. It is the gentle and seeming disappearance of those twinkling bright lights. I hang on to them for as long as darkness allows. I strain to see the glow that may be snuffed out if I involuntarily blink and am immensely relieved when I find them still there. Slightly more dim but nevertheless, still there. I hold on to each star until a pale blue wash bleeds into the indigo. A watery blur softens each point of light. It is a battle between the Dawn and my Will to stay connected to the solar system, just a few moments longer. Then it’s gone. I look and look in vain for the one lasting flicker but I cannot for the life of me remember exactly where in the sky I last saw it. There is a grief. I lost the battle and dawn has won. And I sit with this loss. Lost in thought. Breathing the dawn of a new day into my lungs I am brought back to the present moment by the cool morning air. And then, I see it. At least I think I do. Hard to tell, but the trees on the horizon seem to take on a brighter glow. I wait. There is no hurrying this one. A flock of birds, far off in the distance distract me and ease the wait. They fly together as if held by invisible thread. Changing directions and shape at exactly the same time. Backward and forwards across the horizon above the silhouette of the trees. A glimmer. A flash, so bright it takes my breath away. Time speeds up. The spark floods the valley pouring down streams of golden rays. The light is almost too much to bear and I blink and look for as long as I can before tears start to well. Tears of joy, tears of wonder, tears of realisation. My star has risen. My star which warms my body, sooths my heart and re-ignites my soul is blazingly bright before me once again. One last time I look around. Not a trace of night’s twinkling specks remain. And yet, I know they are there. Hidden by their name sake but there, always there. I bathe in a golden glow. My hair and skin shimmer as if I have been dipped in gold dust. The air smells warm and the tears are but a shiny memory on my cheeks. |
 |