Any day now, our ninety-year-old neighbor on hospice will take his last breath; and any day now, the young couple who live across the street will become parents of their first child. Knowing this, it would be arrogance on my part to be in any way dissatisfied with my own circumstances, or even particularly pleased. For one thing, I could die before either of the events take place. For another, […]
I ran a little later this morning, though I was done well before sunrise. Still, light was growing in the east, and I was treated to the first early-morning round of robin-song I’ve heard this late-winter, early-spring. One bird was perched on a low retaining wall, singing as it watched me go by, a scene that repeats itself every year, and which always remains new. I’ve run every day now […]
Six breaths a minute — I’m an old locomotive in a cold dark wood — I see covered faces — snow on blood ~ [ 2066 ]
Of all the pleasures, of all the joyful sensations, of all that’s charged with balance and meaning, first and foremost is one’s own breath. All others radiate from this single, central, indispensable gift. When we forget this, and are in the habit of taking our breath for granted, we’re more likely to be hasty and fretful, and to fall out of step with life’s natural pace and rhythm. To notice […]
We make our music, and play our way to dusk; when the mists gather, we seek the warm glow of the hearth. Late at night, one by one, the coals close their eyes. The train flies west. We hear it through our open window. No sleep. Only peace, flight, breath. Grandpa said he’d be right back. He was talking about the sun, I guess. ~ [ 2004 ]
I love this drawing, and its gentle simplicity. But I love what I said about drawing every bit as much, because it’s such an apt description of how I feel about art. The figure itself took a lifetime and about two minutes to make; or, to put it another way, it all happened in a breath. ~ [ 1980 ]
As noted then in these pages, my brother, Kirk, died two years ago today — an interval which seems much more like one expansive, all-encompassing breath. I see, meanwhile, that it’s been almost a month since I last wrote. During that time, I’ve felt neither the urge nor the need. And I don’t feel it now. What I do feel is the arrival of spring. Why, then, am I writing? […]
Childish notes — some things never change. And some things, are not things, at all. Summer in the vineyard, a small boy sitting under a vine, hidden by all the other vines. Thinking of it still, of the stillness, still that still, nigh sixty-eight years old, in full. One breath in all — one moment, one grand revelation, one sensation, of being. Alive, blue jeans to the ground, the same […]
Mighty kingdoms come and go, falling leaves on the old black road. And it’s an easy breath, through the stars, past the clothesline, and over the tracks, Into the closed mind, and into the sad heart, of humanity. An easy breath — yes, and a mad spark, of sanity. . Read the sixty-fourth chapter of Middlemarch. October 21, 2023. . [ 1904 ]
Another farm trip, another apple variety: Rosalee, by way of Honeycrisp and Fuji. Read the sixty-third chapter of Middlemarch. Added two photographs, Maple Time and Eternal Breath, taken yesterday at Silver Falls State Park, to the bottom of these pages. October 20, 2023. . [ 1903 ]
William Michaelian 