Medic
Your wings are cold, Mother. How will we live? There was no answer. A soft wind arose, moving her feathers. Another man fell. Brother! I’m here! . [ 1408 ]
Movement and Grace
Even an old elephant, as big and heavy as it is, shows grace in its movement and step. Squirrels, tigers, bears — all touch the earth with the minimum force necessary, whether engaged in foraging, hunting, teaching, or play. And the wild creatures that live alongside us in cities and towns are unfazed by our sidewalks, parking lots, and streets. Unshod and unclothed, they’re like animated springs. The idea that […]
Haiku / Run
Clear sky, bright moon, frogs by the thousands — one owl, one road, deep breath, footsteps. . [ 1406 ]
Step by Step
At seven millimeters, my new huaraches are the thinnest, most comfortable I’ve worn. And after a few walks to get used to them, I’ve now taken them for a run. These sandals will likely be the last bit of footwear I use, as I gradually ease into walking and running entirely barefoot — because I’ve realized that for me, the best, most comfortable, most reliable shoes I can wear are […]
A Few Clay Pots
Let’s leave behind a few clay pots and a worn out pair of sandals. As for dreams and thoughts, let’s keep them guessing. They will be anyway: Religion, music, poetry, science — cathedrals, symphonies, books — Fragments that represent, but never quite make, the whole. Our little daughter said it best with the very first word she spoke: Light. She was nine months old. And when she was seven, She […]
Sunrise, Sunset
Call me old-fashioned, but when it comes to clocks, I far prefer the sun. It’s faithful and reliable, but not insistent. It acts one way in the forest, another in the desert, or on the valley floor. North, south — who could ask for more? Early? Late? For heaven’s sake — what is living for? . [ 1403 ]
The Perfect Place
This moment is the perfect place to live and die and rest. It’s the perfect place for joy. Tell me: have you ever been anywhere else? Have you seen this moment end, or traveled beyond its edge? Tell me: where else would we have met? . [ 1402 ]
Without Arms
A slow run in the cold starry hour before dawn — up the hill, past the old couple’s crocuses still closed for the night, looking like color specialty shops where love models scarves and little boys wonder about their mother’s soft moles — to the corner, and then an eastward turn, ’neath streetlights that die as they burn — proud and solemn, trees without arms — without arms, without arms, […]
Every Every
Every bristle in every broom, every step on every stone, Every smile and every groan, every solace and every loss, Every full and empty palm, every laugh and every dance, Every note of every song — one joy, one peace, one love. . [ 1400 ]
The Beauty Inside
And war, Master? Upon hearing these words, the old man smiled. Beside him was a bowl of nuts. He chose one and held it up. War, he said, is the breaking of the shell. Then, between mottled hands that were as strong as they were gentle, he cracked the nut and pried it open to reveal the beauty inside. He gave half to his pupil and put the other half […]
