Dawn Boiani-Sandberg

I met Jack in New York one night with Una and Anandi, we just popped over and became instant friends. He'd drape fabric around me like a toga and dress me up like a neo-dakini. He and Dean Janoff would come to Karme Choling and I was working on a thangka of Ekajati with Karme Choling in the background and Trungpa's purkhang- here that is:
We talked about art, goddesses, dzogchen, love, sacred geometry and- well everything. Over the years he was more family than friend, I'd come to New York and his little sacred studio, a healing respite in the city and that would be the only important place to visit. Many felt that way. Sometimes I'd talk to him even everyday, he always offered a compassionate ear, time, kindness, insight and could turn a world that looked often so dark into sheer magic. He saw us all as good, uncompromisingly good, and never was separate from a youthful innocence that we often have forgotten. I never met Trungpa, but through Jack felt like I did. It was not him being an icon, his amazing star-filled past, his lovers and the dramatic stories that I will miss, it was his kindness. May I someday aspire to be more like him, he will be missed in this world terribly. I heard that someone, maybe Trungpa said that Dharma Art, a full lineage that he firmly held way ahead if his time, of play, color, magic, innocence, celebration would be how the Dharma and lineage survives into the next generations; may it be so. I love you Jack, I'm so privileged to have known you. I wrote this poem when he was a little sad (pardon the politics), and posted some of his daily cat drawings- each one a profound transmission, yet to be uncovered. Love to him, love to you all, always. Poem and Cat Drawings:
So long Jack, thanks for all the kittens.