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Category Archives: On Writing
When I told my friend Dorothy I was trying to overcome my muteness, she wrote to me about white lilacs. In their brief season, she said, they are “white like brides, with less than a month of blooming, not questioning … Continue reading
The rain has come in earnest. The exhilarated creek is rushing through the canyon, the hills are wet and green, the roads are muddy and now and then impassable. It’s surprisingly noisy…a continual dripping and drumming, the roar of streams and waterfalls, … Continue reading
Morning has surprised me. I looked up from my coffee cup and there it was, waiting patiently outside, a soft gray light beyond a translucent curtain of coastal fog. My list is long today; there are so many things I … Continue reading
Out of it all—came this moment for the soldier. The moment that in a sense was silly and yet sublime. That made him want to giggle but also to expostulate, this delicately balanced instant between the birth of a hysterical … Continue reading
And now it’s October. This morning we actually had a few moments of rain…a brief passing shower, almost like a figment of our imagination, just enough to get a fleeting whiff of the way rain smells. The deck was christened with a … Continue reading
Yesterday I rode my bike down to the beach and stood at the water for a while thinking about things. A wonderful sense of gratitude washed over me, and I felt connected to everyone I love and have loved. I’ve been … Continue reading
Maybe this post is for teachers. Or maybe it’s for someone out there who now and then feels the urge to write, even if just a few scribbled words in a journal. All I want to say about it is … Continue reading
Some people seem to possess a special vitality and spark that translates into constant action and creativity. It doesn’t matter what form it takes, they have to craft an object, concoct a recipe, or render a feeling into painting, poetry, … Continue reading
An old man was watching me work on my scarf as we sat side by side in a waiting room this morning. “When I was a little boy in Denmark,” he said, “I used to hold out my hands for … Continue reading