I first met Clark Strand in the mid-nineties, when I arrived at Tricycle. Clark was then senior editor and the soon-to-be author of Seeds from a Birch Tree: Writing Haiku and the Spiritual Journey. He very quickly became a supportive colleague, welcoming me with warmth and friendship to a Buddhist world that was relatively new to me.

Clark surprised me one day when he ambled over to my desk and pointed to a lavender sweet-pea vine dangling from a window ledge across the street. He said he’d been watching it grow for the past few weeks (I hadn’t noticed it) and handed me a sheet of paper, on which he’d written a haiku celebrating its blossoms’ pastel colors against the building’s weathered brick. I wish I could include the poem here—I remember only the words “sweet pea” and “sunlight”—but I’ve long since lost it. What I do remember is that I began to observe the plant each day with renewed appreciation for its delicate, sunlit beauty.

Back then, Tricycle hosted Change Your Mind Day, an afternoon of guided meditation offered to the public free of charge in Central Park. One year, Clark invited attendees to line up to tell him their favorite thing about one of the four seasons, which inevitably turned out to be a “season word”—key to any haiku. On the spot, Clark would take the word and incorporate it into a haiku, delighting all of us within earshot. That went on for an impressive few hours.

Years later, when I sat in the editor’s seat—Clark had left to pursue his writing and to enjoy family life upstate—he remained a valued contributor, an empathic ear, and a great giver of advice. So it was with some nostalgia that, in a conversation during the darkest days of the pandemic, we discussed a “haiku challenge.” Readers, prompted by a season word, would submit haiku, and from them Clark would pick a monthly winner. Each quarter, the season’s best would be published in print.

The challenge began in February 2021. “Icicle” was the season word, and Clark has been at it ever since with great success: Hundreds of haiku have been submitted by the readership, and Clark’s take on the winner each season has been a delight to read (see “The Ghost of Basho,” p. 30). Clark has become a much beloved teacher of haiku (you can find him easily online) and remains a great friend and contributor to the magazine.

The gratitude I feel for Clark and the many others who have made this magazine what it is today is foremost in my mind not only when I look back but also when I consider the present. Tricycle staff members, largely unseen (you’ll note their bylines), are really what make our project possible. And perhaps it’s time you met some of them, which is done easily enough by joining us for our weekly online meditations, each month led by a different teacher and hosted by a member of our team. Tricycle Zoom Meditations began in May, and feature Q&As and breakout sessions, where subscribers have an opportunity to reflect on their practice with one another. You can visit us online to register and share with us the gratitude we feel for you, our readers, who have sustained us over the last thirty-three years.

Thank you!

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