One Breath
There’s but one breath — you’re taking it now. The next is assumption, religion, hope. . [ 1638 ]
Archive for December 2022
Museum Pieces
I sweep the rug in the entry with the whisk broom our family used during my childhood. Every once in a while, bristles come out — museum pieces — like these, from my memory. . [ 1637 ]
Cured by the Cold
So perfect, so still — did you die, little bird, or were you cured by the cold? . [ 1636 ]
Invisible Guest
Remember, act towards one another as if you’re in the company of an invisible guest — someone kind, gentle, unselfish, dearly loved, the better angel of your nature. . [ 1635 ]
Coda
My heartbeat, the wind in the trees, the sounds of the squirrels and birds, the sigh of traffic on Interstate 5, the ringing in my ears, the kettle on to boil, the flushing of the toilet, voices in the street — these, along with every whisper within and beyond, are the music of my life. They’re my silence, too. How easily, effortlessly, they will end. . [ 1634 ]
Your Answer
What do they mean? Do you ever ask the words themselves? Or do you expect them to do as you tell them? If they were your children, would you demand their rigid compliance, or would you give them the freedom and space they need to blossom? Your answer reveals the kind if writer, speaker, thinker, dreamer you are. If you’re sure the words you use are at your command, then […]
Pain and Fear
On one hand, there’s discomfort, which tells me something’s wrong, or isn’t fully healed. On the other, there’s fear the discomfort will grow worse, or won’t end. But fear is a self-fulfilling prophecy. What I fear is intensified and prolonged by my fear. If I fear long enough, I will fear until my death. And if my fear is the fear of death, I will die fearing that. In this […]
Dare
Chasing words around the page, one lures me to the edge, says, Jump! . [ 1631 ]
Worth, Proof, Gratitude
There’s no need to prove my worth. Life has already done so by bringing me here. Proof — according to whose set of rules? according to which belief or philosophy? compared with which saint, hero, or lunatic, widely or privately known? When I’m grateful — truly grateful — don’t I already give joy to the world? . [ 1630 ]
Unnamable The
Not many days ago, and an equally uncertain number of nights, I read backward and aloud the last page of Samuel Beckett’s The Unnamable. Standing before our big front window, paced by the commas, I read the words slowly and with feeling. When I reached the top of the page, I wondered if the author might not have done the same thing himself. It’s possible he could even have written […]
William Michaelian 