Remembering Elizabeth Gips

it seems that i have known elizabeth for my entire life. she was betty, when we first met. . i was 15, a young runaway. i had read siddhartha, taken lsd and left algebra 1, tardy slips and dress codes far behind.

i had the good fortune and the grace of the gods to be guided into the care of elizabeth gips and louise scott, twin matriarchs of the 'house of the seventh angel'. there, rather than reading 'the secret life of walter mitty', we read the 'tao te ching' and the 'tibetan book of the dead', rather than going out for track, we learned the arts of psychedelic meditation, instead of field trips we went to golden gate park for love-ins.

it was elizabeth that got angry when the kitchen was left a mess, the trash was not recycled properly, the meditation room was not set back to order. it was elizabeth who beamed at a new song, painting or poem.

through the years my journeys have mostly been in directions other than near to her,as is often the case with those we raise to be strong enough to find their own paths. but my gratitude to her has never waned. the tibetans speak of the incredible good fortune we share to have been given a human birth. my good fortune was further increased by having met elizabeth at one of the most critical junctures of my life, a point when a young man begins to distinguish what in life holds value and what is mere illusion. elizabeth never doubted what held value.

to love one another, to seek a glimpse behind the veil, to align yourself with the highest, the deepest, the truest.

not the sort of information that all mothers share with their teenage sons, but the values that elizabeth helped impart to me.

thank you elizabeth. you are now receiving the answers to the questions that you asked for so many years. you leave a path strewn with white stones. in death you continue to urge us forward.

our home is the road, our lives a journey, we are blessed for the time that we walk together.

love, michael glass

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