Shinrin-Yoku
In the Canyon Below North Falls October 23, 2021 . [ 1269 ]
Archive for October 2021
Poem
There is a seam in my glass mug, but no hem and no zipper. What holds the two edges together? What keeps the neck from raveling? The mug is wearing a glistening pendant with transparent chain: A bead of moisture suspended, a sweet drop of rain. Her skin is the color of coffee: trembling, scented, reflective. There is conversation: memory: faded print, falling away. October 25, 2021 . [ 1268 […]
Movement, Breath, Miracle
In the canyon this morning, we were passed in small groups by three or four dozen runners preparing for trail events in November. Their ages spanned decades, and they were all happy, friendly, and smiling, and courteous to those of us walking, giving us ample warning of their approach from behind, thanking us when we had already noticed them coming and had stepped out of their way, and telling us […]
Birds and Words
Early yesterday afternoon, like a feathered storm, a swarm of bushtits settled briefly in the juniper, then moved to the dahlias, where, in communal glee, they hopped and pecked their way from joint to joint along the branches and stems as if they were attending a fall smorgasbord. Their visit lasted about five of our human earth minutes. Part of it took place within my reach, as I stood motionless […]
In the Interim
If I had no knowledge of clocks and calendars, how old would I be? If there were no one to tell me, would I be any age at all? But I do know. And since I do, I ask myself how this knowledge has shaped me. Has it limited my understanding? Has it expanded it? Has it done neither, or both? Moreover, I did not seek this knowledge. Like so […]
Body Language
Perhaps the oldest language is the one spoken by the body to its conscious inhabitant. And all that is needed to understand it, is a willingness to listen. To habitually ignore or purposefully misconstrue what the body says causes an unnecessary battle that cannot be won. The body speaks only the truth, and cannot be fooled. Its memory, moreover, is perfect. And yet, at every turn, its kindness is revealed. […]
Friendship, Devotion, and Care
Our recent walk through the fog near Goose Lake seems like something that happened ages ago — a lifetime, maybe more. I study the calendar: is it something I really know how to read? Upon our arrival, we met a man and a dog who had just finished their walk. Standing beside the open door of his small yellow pickup, the man was gently blotting moisture from the dog’s head. […]
Gently Now
Bide with your pain, your discomfort, your illness, the way a dog does. Bide with your worry, your problem, your puzzle, your fear, your mood. Lick your paw, scratch behind your ear, then settle down and sit quietly. Whether it is for a moment or for an hour, sit forever, the way a dog does. Later, when it is time to stir, do whatever it is you need to do […]
How, of a Morninge
Goose Lake. A dense fog, the cottonwoods dripping, the oaks, the cherries, the brambles, the berries. For the first time in a year we are able to walk to the water’s edge. This end of the lake is very shallow and full of decaying lilies, between which can be seen the mossy bottom just inches below. Quiet. Few birds are out, and none are chattering or calling from the immediate […]
Not Only Trees
Trees are not only trees: they pretend to be trees. They know I am used to seeing and thinking of them as trees, and are kind enough to act accordingly. At the same time, like me, they are what they are by virtue of a process that disperses and combines everything in the universe to arrive at something familiar, yet always original and new. And so now, in effect, it […]
William Michaelian 