She speaks slowly with a voice like moss, soft, deep and damp. If you’re not listening carefully you might just miss it, rising out from the earth like vapour, gently tugging at your ankles. “Rest” she says, “Deeper. Rest as deep as I am. You are moving too fast. Become soil, become the slow-growing tree.…
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.…
just to fall back on the grass and be just to fall down on my bed and stay to be just a being on this earth my head objects: there’s a life to be lived a path to be followed a skill to be learned a friend to be seen a change to be made…
Perhaps for a moment the typewriters will stop clicking, the wheels stop rolling the computers desist from computing, and a hush will fall over the city. For an instant, in the stillness, the chiming of the celestial spheres will be heard as earth hangs poised in the crystalline darkness, and then gracefully tilts. Let there…
Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself…