The Molly whose name we borrow died a little before graduating high school.  Cancer, and as sad as it gets.

Molly engaged every single moment with joy.  Now and now and now and now . . . her gravity held beauty at the center of things.

Yet in many respects, we adopted her name by accident.  First, a few of us were practicing guerrilla art and anonymous giving, then we were offering a few classes and so began to ask:  “What do we call ourselves?”

“How about Molly?” Someone who knew here suggested.

All agreed.

Then when Ted moved to Amsterdam and had to establish a business in order to stay in The Netherlands, “Molly School” felt like the right answer when the Chamber of Commerce asked what the business was to be called.

And we work under Molly’s name now with a maximum of gratitude and respect.

But Louisa School or Tara School works too, as does Max and Naledi, Anshi or Luiz, George or Willow, Nuala and Orion, Lola or Jeremy.

In our inner working and relationship with others, we are unique and irreplaceable.  In our function to the system or organization, we are interchangeable.

Which is to say that we do not venture forth in the name of an individual so much as in the paradoxical attempt to carry out the work as the we who we are not the what of an organization, in this case, one called Molly

In so doing, if we can look up and out for the qualities of love and light we so often assume go wanting in ourselves, could be one degree more concerned with the global village we all inhabit, and one degree less obsessed with our own habitations, that would be cool.

Make.  Give. Be.

Do your thing in service of the world.

For us that is Molly.

Join us.