Solomon, you are still with us. It’s amazing. Your niece Oona is going on 15 and your mother just turned 80 I feel you would be happy with your family. Nicole and Ryan are doing well. They come over to the family house to go swimming. Samantha is a wonderful singer, dancer, swimmer and more. Maeve just graduated 6th grade and her reading/language comprehension is college level… They say she’s got the highest scores seen at her school!! Happy Birthday, July 11, 2024.

Here are some photos to bring you closer.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping./For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts./ And stand together but not too near together:/ For the pillars of the temple stand apart,/ And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow. Kahil Gibran

Love you, Solomon!

Twelve years ago, Wednesday January 31 Solomon died in a car accident in Bangkok. Today Solomon, we remember you and this year bring in the birds with a SOLOMON name in them, and recall how you set us flying with your music, soaring across water, snow, carrying friends and family in your vision from earliest time holding bird or furry animal.

There is a bird named (species) Ptilinopus solomonensis in the Bismark Archipelago. The Yellow Bibbed Fruit-Dove, known for its vibrant and distinctive plumage, is native to the region east of New Guinea. With its striking yellow bib, this beautiful bird adds a splash of color to the verdant landscapes it calls home. Its presence in the lush forests of this region is a testament to the diversity of avian life found in this part of the world. The bird’s enchanting appearance and graceful presence make it a fascinating subject for birdwatchers and nature enthusiasts alike. As it soars through the canopy and feasts on a variety of fruits, the Yellow Bibbed Fruit-Dove is a true symbol of the rich biodiversity found in the eastern reaches of New Guinea.

Gymnophaps Solomonensis is known as the Pale Mountain Pigeon, is found In the Solomon Islands North East of New Guinea on the Island of Kolombangara, roosting by the hundreds in forests near the rim of craters… Vocalization: a quiet vruu, low-pitched hoot.

BIRDS IN THE SNOW—Mountain snowboarding up near Tahoe and…… Solomon, the waterbird

Poem by Mary Oliver: I’m feeling Fabulous, Possibly Too Much So

…There couldn’t be a more

splendid world, and here I am

existing in it.

I think, just for the joy of it, I’ll fly.

I believe I could..

And yet another voice says, Can we come down

from the clouds now?

And some other voice answers, Okay.

But only for awhile.

Bird photo: KING FISHER in India by Shabda

   Poem by Mary Oliver: Such Singing in the Wild Branches

…it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—

…but it seemed

Not a single thrush, but himself and also the trees around him,

as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds

In the perfectly blue sky—all, all of them

were singing.

And of course, so it seemed,

so was I.

Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

For more than a few moments.

It’s one of those magical places wise people

Like to talk about… once you’ve been there,

You’re there forever…  

An offering from your Mama….. <> With you, beloved Solomon in the music and on the wings of LOVE! <>

Ada Limón is Poet Laureate of the United States. This poem is to be engraved in Nasa’s spacecraft

the Europa Clipper Ship to be launched in October to study Jupiter’s moon.

In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa.  

Arching under the night sky inky

with black expansiveness, we point

to the planets we know, we

pin quick wishes on stars. From earth,

we read the sky as if it is an unerring book

of the universe, expert and evident.

Still, there are mysteries below our sky:

the whale song, the songbird singing

its call in the bough of a wind-shaken tree.

We are creatures of constant awe,

curious at beauty, at leaf and blossom,

at grief and pleasure, sun and shadow.

And it is not darkness that unites us,

not the cold distance of space, but

the offering of water, each drop of rain,

each rivulet, each pulse, each vein.

O second moon, we, too, are made

of water, of vast and beckoning seas.

We, too, are made of wonders, of great

and ordinary loves, of small invisible worlds,

of a need to call out through the dark.

Across the Difficult with Rabia of Basra and Others <> published by Albion Andalus, Boulder, Colorado 2023

Solomon it is your birthday again July 11, and we celebrate you and your beautiful life !

Twelve years after the car accident in Bangkok that took your life, you are still remembered and loved . Your life was so filled with people, adventures, movement and laughter. Here are some pictures of life-time moments.—Solomon among the teachers and inspirers!

Shabda is holding you, Solomon, in front of City Hall in San Francisco while the Dalai Lama reaches out. This was on the cover of the San Jose Mercury News… Below that is Jamgon Kongtrol Rinpoche practicing archery in our back yard about the time you took refuge with him.

Details

S

While in India you visited Tapkeshwar Caves where Guruji Pandit PranNath lived as a Naga Baba in the 40s.

Solomon and Guriji (Shabda’s Indian Music Teacher) on the porch of our Corte Madera house.

There are many photos on file from URS and birthdays posted here over the years. Enjoy.

We LOVE you Solomon.

January 31^st begins the eleventh year Solomon can no longer hug us or play music for us. 

That I will not hear his voice on the phone. Yet he is still with many of us very often. That’s Solomon. The following is from your memorial, Solomon, when I was determine to tell stories that would make us smile. Here they are.

April 1, 2012 we gather to celebrate Solomon’s life and wish him God-Speed into his new adventures beyond this physical life. So many friends and family are filling Angelico Hall, at Dominican in San Rafael. Here I offer my speech, and will celebrate with a gorgeous musical tribute by the two Terrys – Terry Riley on piano, and Solomon’s Terry-Dad, Terry Haggerty on guitar. These two musical masters had never played together before this tribute to Solomon. [Imagine the music!]

When Shabda and I were in our late twenties we met Joe and Guin Miller. These amazing elders were real Godparents. They led a walk in Golden Gate Park every week. On holidays there were sometimes more than a hundred people walking from the Hall of Flowers to the ocean. I used to meet with Guin and a group of young women she invited to her apartment above the Theosophical Lodge in SF – some of you have been there – and she would play the piano for us, then we would talk and eat cake. Once I got up the courage to ask her about how it really was for her to have lost her son in the war. Her boy and Shabda had the same birthday. She was quiet for a minute, then said, He’s still with me. She was smiling. 

I didn’t get it. I thought she was hiding some terrible grief. Now I understand.

When Solomon turned eleven, and my Uncle Willy, Senator Bill Proxmire had served in the Senate for 29 years, Shabda, Solomon, and I went to Washington DC for a visit. Imagine this: Solomon and his father sitting in the Senate dining room each dressed in suit and tie. The great liberal Teddy Kennedy stopped by the table. So did extremely conservative Jessie Helms, who nodded to us and turned to Solomon – who somehow managed to really look like a small-sized politician – and said, “Well, you look like a fine young man,” then reached out and shook Solomon’s hand. Solomon had the uncanny ability to be at the energetic pitch, and fit in wherever he found himself. After he left, my uncle leaned toward his great nephew and said: “He’s one of the bad guys!”

What a lucky mother I am to be invited to Burningman with both Ammon and Solomon 5 times! In 2003, Ean Golden took me and my good friend Wendy Carlisle in the open top bus where he DJ’d the night-time cruise. Way out on the playa stood a gigantic Steel frame that held five rectangular rock slabs – each supporting ten or more people – that swung gently from chains.

 That evening a sizable crowd filled the space below. As our bus slowly approached that lit-up scene we heard the beats, tum tum tum, tum, then the sound of Solomon’s music over an enormous speaker system grew louder. There he was, at the turntable, spinning in the portable playa DJ studio, making people happy. What a party! How many moms get to do that?

He took me to see the film SCRATCH, when it first came out. He explained about the DJ genre and the legendary Philippine scratch-masters.

So when he gave me a photo of himself with Mix-Master Mike at the Warriors game, I framed it and put it on the wall. A few months later we had our house painted, and a surly painter stopped in his tracks and asked me, who is the guy with Mix-Master Mike? That’s my son, I told him. I wish you’d seen his face! He was really really nice to me for the rest of the job.

Then there was Las Vegas. He got me compt’d at a pool-side room in the Hard Rock Hotel, where he and Chris Clouse played a dinner set on Thursdays. At One AM he was to play the Taboo Room in the MGM Grande. I had my friend Palden with me and we took a cab. The lobby is enormous. There was a pounding beat, and a long line to get in. I addressed the bored looking Hollywood-type who held a clip board at the door. I’m DJ Solomon’s Mom! I shouted. He looked at me deadpan, took in the dreads, my age, my clothing. Then he said: Well, that’s a first!  And stamped my hand and hers. We went in and waited for Solomon. Soon, I saw him. He arrived and connected his computer to the sound system and began, no introduction, and no more than 6 seconds between the exiting DJ’s last tune and his first––– all without slowing down the momentum – I understood.

DJ Solomon would be just fine doing what he did. He was a consummate professional, a star.

When Solomon cruised, he often took me with him, now it’s my turn to take him along. I recently wrote down these words:

Take me with you, Mom, into your life, and what you do. Let me bring the balance and glide of boarding into the continual challenge of your everyday life. And please keep loving Nicole…..        Thank you.  <>  <>  <>

“My love for you is in everything you do….” These words came as a strong message to me from you, Solomon. I received them soon after I heard that you had died in a car crash in Bangkok, January 31, 2012. It feels like you are with me, not somewhere else, both then and now. You had a full-to-the-brim life in your 34 years.  Knowing this has supported me greatly, allowing grief to feel less hurtful. You would be 45 today. I’m celebrating your life right here.

A birthday invitiation 2008:

“Hello Family….I am extending an invite to our wonderful family for a day of boating/birthday celebration as I bring in the 31^st year of my time on our little rock. We thought it would be fun to have everyone go out on a Sunday, as Sundays seem to work pretty well for everyone. The boat is located in Tracy about an hour from SF…picnic lunch. Any questions? Hope you all can make it. Much Love, Solomon”

Your friends are thinking of you today, Solomon and you are with us taking us into snow, waves and always, the best music. We all miss and love you!

I’ll be seeing you…in all the old familiar places 
That this heart of mine embraces all day thru…
I’ll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new.
I’ll be looking at the moon—but I’ll be seeing you.  
—Song 1938 I’ll be Seeing You

the look of him /the beauty of the man
is his comings and /his goings…
his place is never taken…
which is  /the kind of man he is                
—Lucille Clifton  the kind of man he is
  

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
—Pharell Williams

Your absence has gone through me 
like thread through a needle 
Everything I do is stitched with its color    
—W.S. Merwin

Sending you love and gratitude Solomon. For your heart, wisdom and full life.

Solomon Samuel Kahn 7/11/77 — 12/31/12