Just to look─ to look at the sea, to follow its comings and goings, is to see beyond memory, beyond life, before and after the beginning of death. Just to think─ to think about the sea, to ponder its waves, is to find there is more, more than souls can account for, than every … More That Is Enough
“We “go to wilderness to remove ourselves from the human saturation in our lives, not see mementos from other people’s lives.” — Robyn Martin Cairns, or carefully stacked stones, have been around for centuries, a practice with a purpose ranging from remembrance of the dead to spiritual offering to trail heads. Yet today’s modern day … More Already Perfect
“When despair for the world grows in me…I go and lie down where…the great heron feeds, I come into the peace of wild things….” Listen here to Wendell Berry read the complete The Peace of Wild Things as published in Wendell Berry, New Collected Poems © Counterpoint, 3/26/2013. * * * Great Blue Heron, watercolor painting … More Peace
It was a day when the ocean lay still, merging its salty wetness with the dank side of the sky and the air was thick with fish, so thick that you could see them—in full color, I might add—darting and turning through the edges of waves before losing their way in the deep. There were … More Counting fish
“If you want to experience joy, stop, slow down, and begin to pay attention to what you taste and smell when you’re making breakfast, when you’re in a restaurant, when you’re having wine, when you’re outside and it’s the beginning of spring and you can smell the earth getting soft under your feet. Pay attention … More Flavor
Listen to the foghorn moan─ pushing its throaty alarm through the weight of night, stilling the pulse of the day, erasing all distinction. Perhaps the unknown of its tone comes straight from the gods themselves, murmuring their message in primal sound. Tonight, its voice grows louder, more enchanting than in past, diving to the depths of … More Last thing at night…
And still they wait— 157 or more, gathered before the soup kitchen door. Waiting— for relief from the chill, from the brunt of hunger, from lost promise. Waiting— before the shadow of light that must define hope peters out. Waiting— to escape from the wet, from the dirt and the dark. Tonight, tomorrow, again, again and … More Reprieve
There is an art, they say, to falling. Turn one’s face to the side. Stay loose, arms and legs bent, body relaxed. It is an art I am yet to master, falling more likely face first, catapulting headlong, fearing to miss one tiny step in this affair of love. For that’s what it is. Drawn … More Falling with grace
Hiding their delicate bloom in heart-shaped leaves, they lift their seemingly shy heads from the forest floor, understated harbingers of spring after winter, life after death. Some, dressed in white, speak of beauty and purity both. Others, in stains of purple, pause the viewer’s soul at the edges of mourning, whispering since the days of antiquity … More Beautiful Strength
even the beautiful and wonderful things — the more they become invisible to us. That is why we often take for granted the beauty of this world: the flowers, the trees, the birds, the clouds — even those we love. Because we see things so often, we see them less and less.” – Joseph B. … More “The more often we see the things around us…
Life Is Full of Sweet Spots 