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Bentari Project Blog

This is the blog for the Bentari Project.

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In the end, a doctor diagnosed he died from a broken heart

“The earth and myself are of one mind. The measure of our land and the measure of our bodies are the same. . . .” [1] Joseph (1830-1904) Nez Percé chief People whose clans, tribes and families have lived on the same lands for centuries are called indigenes. Some “old” ones still live today in ever shrinking homelands and with ever increasing pressu...

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Meeting strife with a crocodile smile

Chief Mankani shares plans with Mirawami in Bentari : [1] Seeing random, distant cumulous clouds in the eastern sky, he remembered that the rainy season was nearing and he said with a confident smile, “We will be like the crocodiles who swim upstream before the floodtides, Daughter.” She understood his meaning and replied, “Yes, I see, Father. You ...

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Charge! Fanning flames for peace and kindness!

Mark Twain once believed American imperialism to be honorable, a good and beneficial outcome for any land that received our country’s blessing in this special way. He changed his mind. [1] Today, over a century removed from Twain’s final musings, Americans still line up armed with charged ideologies in debates about “just” wars and “necessary” wars...

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Following the Equator—finding the heart of the matter

You know, Sam Clemens wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth. But he tried to install one a few times. He failed about as often as not—with his writing and some publishing pulling him up, only to suffer from speculations and investments that sank him. At about age 60, he finally got himself stuck on a shoal so badly that he was forced to go b...

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Bentari and the Hedgehog

Bentari imagined his mother and father waking up in the dim light of dawn and becoming angry that he was not there on his bed-mat. He smiled. He thought of them for good reason as he dangled beetles by their flailing legs down to the adolescent hedgehog on the ground below. “Poor, little Needle,” he whispered.” If only you had a mother and father l...

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Tossed willy-nilly like a pea in a great sack—and landing in war

Stefan Zweig did not like confrontation. He grew up in a privileged class in a privileged time and in a peaceful place. Vienna was the place. The time was before “the shot heard around the world” rang out and events still inexplicable today led to trench warfare and mustard gas bombs from the air—a time forever branded as World War I, the Great War...

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Artists, writers, historian Howard Zinn and my Aunt Margaret care about people

My brothers and I carry on a family tradition—Sunday breakfast at Elmer’s with Aunt Margaret. We have enjoyed this ritual since medieval times when our parents were there—and since our grandparents were with us, too. Now we are the elders. Margaret is the matriarch, and we are joined at times by our children and grandchildren. Margaret and I have s...

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From The Story Project to Bentari Project—“Splendid”

The Story Project [1] in Portland, Oregon was created to promote the idea that, “The act of telling one's story has the ability to transform, heal and empower the storyteller.” My friend Robin is a counselor, coordinator, facilitator and Director for this wonderful team whose aim is to help students forge their own strong identities. Robin recently...

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The best writer you never heard of—Stefan Zweig

Stefan Zweig (1881-1942) [1] has been called “The Secret Superstar.” He was one of the world’s most popular writers of the 1920s and ‘30s. There were times when he had to barricade himself in his own home to avoid his fans who hung around just to get a glimpse of him or a few words with him. Almost everything he wrote was consumed rapidly by an eag...

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