I trace the outline, cliffs that by some miracle of violence have turned to an autumn of silvering scars
Category: Prose
On being moved
I found myself inside the body of dancer….
You do it to your self
Many people are so unkind to themselves it seems to me. They beat themselves until they feel like they have given enough…and yet they never feel like they have. They become stressed and ill, and yet they continue to do the same under the impression that they are doing some great service to humanity, and…
Still small things
I do like monasticism….although in some ways the religious context of meditation doesn’t matter, in some ways it does. Like….when I pray or meditate and at times have a deep sense of which I am totally surrounded by a loving energy that is invading every part of my being..and I wonder why anyone would want…
What lies beneath
How does deep love feel? Sort of soggy, rich, like the humus of a forest floor. That’s as close as I can get. Stuff grows from it. It feeds everything we know. Connects us to everyone we have ever known, or will know. Roots us. Nurtures us, nourishes us. All this life truly is, along…