I’ve lost: Three hours of work on the last chapter Friends I thought I had for life The golden cross pendant my godmother gave me Faith in God Frequently, my equanimity I almost lost: The way out of the woods My passport and smartphone at the Dutch tulip show My virginity before I was ready…
It was spring and finally I heard him among the first leaves – then I saw him clutching the limb in an island of shade with his red-brown feathers all trim and neat for the new year. First, I stood still and thought of nothing. Then I began to listen. Then I was filled with…
We look with uncertainty beyond the old choices for clear-cut answers to a softer, more permeable aliveness which is every moment at the brink of death; for something new is being born in us if we but let it. We stand at a new doorway, awaiting that which comes… daring to be human creatures, vulnerable…
When I consider how in this world all is falling blossom – what then must become of this self? This world – strung jewels of dew on the frail thread a spider spins by Saigyō, translated by Meredith McKinney I find these poems so incredibly potent. In a few words the…
What makes a fire burn is space between the logs, a breathing space. Too much of a good thing, too many logs packed in too tight can douse the flames almost as surely as a pail of water would. So building fires requires attention to the spaces in between, as much as to the wood.…
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs. How rivers and stones are forever in allegiance with gravity while we ourselves dream of rising. How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken. How people come, from delight or the…
Enter the wild with care, my love And speak the things you see Let new names take and root and thrive and grow And even as you travel far from heather, crag and river May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter May you enter now as otter without falter into…
It’s okay if you’re scared when you’re opening. The seed, she was scared too. Do you think the coal wanted to become a diamond? Ha! She was scared out of her wits of change! It took her 10,000 years to even be able to pray for it. And what about our favourite cliché, that caterpillar?…
Come with me now, along the beckoning path, silvered in mist toward the glimmering lake, bring every grief you have not said and every tear you have not shed and every sorrow you’ve carried alone. ‘There is a door beneath everything we’ll walk right by if we don’t stop to look with our troubled hearts…