In the In-Between

Missing instagram. The constrained attention of a photo-a-day habit – when it really is fine not to add an interpretation of the moment. To point – and let it be. And let the words come when they will. When in a quiet moment, the dragon decides to move through. * These days are in-between the…

Solstice

The sun turned two days ago. And isn’t this the way it always is – so ready, so over-due for something to change, only to find myself lagging behind. The sky is a lazy white, and as bright now as it will be all of today. There is a silent mumuration of starlings over the…

Form Two Lines

These days nothing feels as it should. There is an off-ness in the gusts of wind, in the bad news that I read from the local paper while the dog pees on the dying bush that is his 4.30 a.m. go-to spot. I’m going to have to find a new morning routine for the two…

In the Coming

There is a wisdom in traditions. They must be borne of intuitive responses. The first of December means the Norwegians bring out the advent lights. These days – when leaving for work in the dark and heading home in the dark can make me feel robbed of something – these small lights evoke sensations of…

Halving the Distance

Some mornings, even dark mornings, the world seems too bright. And I feel an extra pressure to step up. To be good enough. It’s as if something is hawking, mustering, whistling a rally cry. I have no idea what for, but there is rising sense of urgency, a sharp edge of panic touching my diaphragm….

Seen on My Run

A loud run. The wind in my ears, even through the scarf. My right knee with its brittle rubber squawking, my left hamstring belting obscenities like Ethel Merman. Then turned to head back, quiet and easy. Then came the rain. Go figure.

Advent Sunday

It isn’t often that I feel terribly out of place. That I am acutely aware of being transplanted. That I feel a pinch of want – the severed root that cannot nourish – and I feel just slightly withered. Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason, you sing. For no reason, you accept the way of…

Routine

It’s mild today, but the bridge was sure to be slick with ice, so we kept to the trail west of the lake. E. got me up from the computer and out the door. And Leonard Edgar seems to finally have his mojo back, while I lagged behind taking pictures, effectively running intervals to keep…

Memory & Anticipation

So much of the Buddhist philosophy makes sense to me. Except the aspect of non-sensuality – at least as I am understanding it. To give up the pleasure of the senses, seems to me a premature death. Surely one can consciously experience and enjoy being in the world – this very physical world that we…

Seeking the Sun

from whatever perspective offers itself. Work days in a literal black box, desk facing the wall – I have to remember to take the time to seek out a window. A reflection of the setting sun, early afternoon. Somewhere in the world it’s Thanksgiving, with all its ambivalence.

For the Birds

A walk this morning while my hamstring mends. I was unsettled, but it took me a few minutes to understand why: Missing the birds. Not a magpie, not a crow, not a sparrow this morning. Finally, the ducks who dare to over-winter here, along the edges of the water. Quiet. Too quiet. Leonard shakes off…

Running East

towards the west coast of England. We’re running castle to castle again come February. But still a long way to go before that. The dog is staring at me. We’ve both grown soft on this side of summer and I believe he feels a similar ambivalence facing the prospect of leaving this warm little library…