The normal way we meet the world is full of bumps and bruises and noise that scratches up the heart. And yet, if we can endure and lean in, we are widened and opened to a depth that weaves the tissue of the Universe together.
An old friend died several years ago. At the time, I wrote this poem. I still can't delete his phone number from my contact list. To do so would seem so final, but I also still feel in contact with him.
We have only a few seconds to love the wonder out in the open or those we meet will swallow it. Seconds to let this timeless resource come into our knowing so it can save us from the brutality of surface living.
In the days after my father died, there were many quiet moments and many stories told. It was a small thing my mother said while crying over tea that allowed me to connect these small stories of my great-grandfather, my grandfather and my father. I never realized that they form a legacy I'm a part of.
The Music We Make It's about the music of our voices. I want to be able to see in notation and hear my voice when I speak The musical notes of my vo...
When I remember that I'm one small part in a very complex and numinous Whole, I may feel frustrated but I feel engaged in an ongoing process of aliveness that keeps demanding my cooperation.
Part of everyone's journey in life is to arrive at precipice or fork in the road or at the end of a path and to realize we no longer know our way. Hard as this is, this is where the inner journey begins, when all we've carried has served its purpose and now we must burn it for warmth and to see what's next.
The influence of reading him became the influence of knowing him. Baraka, the poet, playwright, essayist, and activist who died last week at the age of 79, embodied one of the most important periods in the evolution of American literature: Civil Rights.
My father used to quip that old is always 10 years out from wherever you are. I'm 62 and to think of how old I once thought this was! What I'm learning is that age is not the distance from the beginning of our lives but the distance at any moment from the heart of our aliveness.
No matter what we're going through, the opposite is happening somewhere else at the same time. This awareness doesn't minimize our own experience but adds context and medicine to the truth of any given moment, the way a rip in the curtains we have drawn seems like a violation of the privacy we so wanted though it is only letting the light of the world in. This poem tries to understand this paradox.
When in the crucible of a difficult life change, I went to be by the sea, to clear my head, to open my heart, to imagine next steps. What I found was the beauty and resilience of life waiting under my trouble and all trouble. It helped me look beneath my pain and confusion to remember that while what happens when we're alive can be alarming and disappointing, the fact that we're alive is all that matters.
What books, quotes, people, blogs will help you when you fail or when you find yourself being judged by others? Create your very own pool of wisdom that you can dip into whenever things don't go as expected or hoped for.
During his last year, my father suffered four strokes and a heart attack. We watched him be yanked back and forth between life and death. This piece was written during this time.
We, in our colossal ingenuity, attach to sound frameworks of our own design, as with lips and larynxes animated by muscle and soul, we unleash song
Without dark and light working together, we'd lose all depth perception and be lost in the flatness of the surface world. Living our story and working with dark and light helps us perceive depth.
Everyone and everything dies, from gnats to galaxies, but people believed the famously, indefatigably ebullient John Muir died of heartbreak.