It’s a funny thing. I say I’m going to write letters, and I actually do write a few, then, soon enough, my letter-writing degenerates into postcards and poems. It’s been that kind of winter — that kind of life. You, there, cozy on your couch; you, hunched and bunched at your desk; you, with your laptop, tablet, and phone — don’t think I’m not mindful of my promise, or my […]
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 […]
The flag says, I am separate. The bomb says, I am indiscriminate. The man says, I am brave and free. The child says, Woe is me. . [ 1785 ]
Spring at last — the old man was a child all along. I spent most of yesterday writing that line. It isn’t much, I know, but I also walked, ran, and talked to a retired neighbor, who’s one of the friendliest, most positive people I’ve ever met. He also walks and runs. He rides a bicycle, too, and is looking forward to sunny days ahead. On the way home, I […]
While growing up, I was never in serious trouble. There were a few childish capers, a few lies, a few dangerous chances taken, but no harm was directed at others, only at myself. Once I was old enough, almost all of these mindless adventures included the consumption of alcohol. Why this would be so is not entirely clear. I never witnessed excessive use as a child, unless we deem excessive […]
What grew in me without my knowing, what crept stealthily into my burgeoning little boy’s identity and went unrecognized for years, was a keen sense of competition. The expectation, need, and desire to be the best was administered in tiny doses without their knowing by family, friends, acquaintances, and teachers. The best reader, the best speller, the best runner, the best at throwing or kicking a ball — the process […]
Once I realized I would live forever, I forgot all about it. Truth be told, if in my life there’s a common theme, it’s that almost without exception, whatever flash of insight I have, or feel I have, I forget within a day or two. And so it might be said that my present understanding is an accumulation of inspired residue dating back to childhood, those tiny bits which, against […]
Sometimes I feel I could live to be a very old man. Sometimes I feel I already have. Sometimes I feel the end is near, as it always has been. Sometimes I feel quite young, a boy laughing where the spirit is. . [ 1647 ]
This old body is going through some changes this winter. It reminds me of cracking walnuts with my father during the long cold evenings. He was a boy, and I was at least a hundred and ten, when, crack! The outside was in, and the inside was out again. . [ 1640 ]
Letting go the precious image of oneself — the habit, the mask, the careworn cloak — isn’t this the fear of death? And if it is, why not let go now and be completely free, like the wind that blows and snow that falls? In life and deed — why not be a wise old child? . [ 1609 ]
William Michaelian 