March 12, 2019
I was reading an article that rebuked people for their “buffet Buddhism”. Which was interesting in light of the fact […]
March 11, 2019
Over the past 8 years, I’ve become an early riser. Last summer a friend of mine playfully scolded me for […]
March 9th, 2019
Sunday rant on a Saturday: I am on my browser, using my home wifi. I am patiently sitting through an […]
March 6th, 2019
Dear DLD, Yeah, so I’m going to do it: “I had this weird dream”. A stressful dream anchored in S.’s […]
March 4th, 2019
Dear HXH. Playing with form again. Perhaps not the most productive way for me to work these days, but an […]
The Tribe
Dear Di, I want a knight just like the one in your photo. I would put him in the corner […]
January 1st, 2019
No such thing as a new beginning, but perhaps a turning, a point on the spiral to take in the […]
September 18th
The world is never, really quiet. There are waves in the darkness that beat a rhythm through our very cells.
Dance.
August 20th
An electric light at dawn, anticipating the lengthening night.
This little window of autumnal sunrises before dark creeps over my mornings.
The Pursuit of Silence
and giving in… It has been a summer of quiet. Avoiding the noise. Relinquishing the pressure of “content”, in terms […]
August 14th
The last morning of a summer
of unexpected ease.
An arch of light on the horizon.
August 13th
Summer is leaving the lake now. There is a quieting all along the trail.
Footfall and breath, and an absence of birdsong.
August 11th
The sky was still dark at 4.45 when I woke to meditate. White by the time we hit the trail. These last mornings running in the half-light before the cows are taken in, and all the geese have flown south, I breathe it all in.
Now, while the world is wet and the fallen pine needles still green.
August 9th
Not dreaming, but stepping on egg shells this morning.
It's been a week since I heard the cuckoo, though the songbirds are still here, getting on with the effort of living before they leave us to another season of darkness and crows.
Returning with the Lapwings
Where the trees stop and give way to the plowed fields, the stench of manure is a slap to the senses. This is what life tastes like. Want it or not.
Concentrating Between Breaths
February 19th, 2018 The lamps along the trail were out this morning, and the light from the torch strapped onto […]
