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Tag Archives: poetry
I walked through the canyon this morning in its after-storm chaos. The creek is now a muddy, roaring river, strewn with big chunks of debris. I contemplated crossing where it tumbles over the road by the neighbors’ house, but I … Continue reading
This is Mr. Brownell, and if you had him as a teacher, you were a lucky kid. He always knew that the best classroom of all was the great outdoors, and that the old hands-on skills and fundamental values were … Continue reading
This is the road I walk along nearly every morning. Sometimes I walk in a mindful way, trying to notice everything around me, and sometimes I listen to podcasts or let my thoughts wander where they will. Letting thoughts wander … Continue reading
I was upstairs in my little room, lying on a yoga mat with the intent of stretching and meditating, but really just lying on a yoga mat. Suddenly I had the sensation that I was not alone, and there on … Continue reading
Sometimes I plan and think about a post before I blog. (Oh, that word, “blog”… it’s so ugly and dismissive.) Right now, though, I am typing quickly in a stream-of-consciousness way, maybe because this space has become a touchstone to … Continue reading
Walking down the hall to the shared bathroom in the morning with my toilet kit in hand, I had a déjà vu sensation that it was 1970, and I was living in a college dorm. When I entered the bathroom, two … Continue reading
We convened among redwood trees, four hundred participants who had come to listen, learn, and be present with one another. It was an experiment. Whoever was there were the right people, and whatever happened would be the only thing that … Continue reading
I live on two levels: here, which is a pretty nice place to be, and there, which is a thick morass of sadness and remorse about things in the past, strewn with jagged rocks of worry about what’s to come. … Continue reading
The night before last I slept long and soundly, and I am someone who views a good night’s sleep as quite a happy accomplishment. I even dreamed, and as usual I remember the dreams only as an irrational and inconclusive … Continue reading