Aging is freeing for a writer, a last gasp of so many why nots? I’ve mentioned wanting to write poetry but not having a poet’s heart, which I don’t, but why not a few lines of verse, from time to time? And because it is not real poetry but an exercise, I use a quotation,... Continue Reading →
Why Mary Oliver Asked
All her life, Mary Oliver gave us “instructions for living,” being aware, delighted because of it, and “telling about it.” That was her poetry, line after line. Mary Oliver is gone but how grateful I am that she lived and told us about it. I don’t know how many of her poems are in my... Continue Reading →
Trying to Change the Questions
When you are trying to change the questions, you have to realize that many people are quite resistant to such a change. They like the answers they have. Stanley Hauerwas Q&A Answers, boxes of questions cornered. What to do and not, each easily rising to a reason d’etre until change comes creeping in fury.... Continue Reading →
Like a Rock
I did not find them by the sea but in a forest deep. They sat path-side. A fossilized shell, wave-smooth, with a wooden wayfarer having lost all but itself. As one, they appeared a fish, head of stone, body and tail of crêpe myrtle. On that day, they left one path for another. Who knows... Continue Reading →
A Life of Many Rings
I know a story of finding meaning in a Zen koan, any koan. It is a tale of a tree and an axe. The tree’s girth is considerable, a life of many rings, no two alike, for as each ring ended another began. No matter how sharp (or great) the axe, the chopping through of... Continue Reading →
I Talk to Trees
Life or death. A hurricane brings both to the forefront. The decision to stay or to go is the storm within a storm. Regardless, there is no escaping the experience of a hurricane. Now or later, you won’t miss it. Everything and everyone is scrutinized. We find out who we are and who we are... Continue Reading →
The Daily Eclipse
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life. Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself," Section 46 Walt Whitman comes to mind more these days than he did during... Continue Reading →
Pause and Repeat: Being By Roses
“Pause and Repeat” posts signal a break in blogging for me. Each time, the break is of its own specifics but mostly, it is just a pause, a moment away. The repeat is always a favorite previous post, this time, a Mary Oliver moment. Roses Everyone now and again wonders about those questions that have... Continue Reading →
What Better Thing to Do
Yesterday, Mary Oliver posted a bit of her poem, ” Mockingbirds,” on Facebook. The Atlantic featured it on April 30 as the poem of the day but as Oliver pointed out, a poem can be the poem of the day on any day. Indeed. This morning two mockingbirds in the green field were spinning and tossing... Continue Reading →
When the Journey Seems a Jungle
On so many days, the journey daunts. It’s the obstacle. It’s the path. It’s both. You choose the order, if that's a must for you. Some days I stagger but I also admit to a bit of swagger. Those days cost me more, ultimately. This day, the journey is loud with "voices I leave behind." I... Continue Reading →