Met with no traffic during this morning’s run through the neighborhood. Back in the house before four-thirty. A starry sky, with a bright, waning, super-blue moon. Air clean and free of wildfire smoke. Spanish. Read a page of Juan Valera’s Pepita Jiménez. Italian. Read a passage from a translation of Homer’s Iliad. How much of effort is really the reaffirmation of one’s ego-identity? Axe, muscle, gravity. But when I chop […]
When he asked his grandmother why she was dancing with her broom, she smiled and said, “You might as well ask me why I love.” . [ 1793 ]
While out running yesterday morning before dawn, and then again an hour or so later while doing some bending, stretching, and breathing exercises, I thought about what I was really doing. I was, in some small degree, lessening the distance between the life I’m living and the life I would have lived as a primitive, wandering, foraging human whose activities were devoted almost entirely to survival, a life in which […]
a new day . . . because only light can describe the dance of these insects . [ 1451 ]
After a slow start, and a slow run up the hill, the body said, Alright, enough nonsense, let’s go. And so off we ran, pushing beyond the comfortable limit of breath, and then beyond again and again, finding exhilaration at each new level, never once needing to open the mouth. See? You thought you had forgotten. Forty-seven degrees. Stars and clouds. The cool, rainy weather continues. I’ve been wearing them […]
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 ]
How slowly can I breathe? How deeply? How calm can I be? Somewhat calm? Quite calm? Infinitely calm? How far can I run? And for how long? How patient can I be? How helpful, how considerate, how understanding, how gentle? How little harm can I do? How little disturbance can I make in the world? How present can I be? How aware? How grateful? How devoid of ego? How much […]
Which is the greater fallacy — that we can know what is coming, or that we can be prepared? * For the latest news, see the cutting room floor. * Nothing dies. In its own time and at its own pace, everything becomes something else — the leaf, the cloud, the body, the star, the stone. What we see is a graceful dance and fleeting references to energy. * We […]
And you think, O, how I will speak, when given the chance; and when the chance finally comes, not a single word accompanies its arrival; instead, you are a tree, in the salt breeze, a shower of spray at your feet; and you think, O, how can I speak, when given to dance; and the sea, relentless, speaks for you; and you find it all blessed, blessed, and grand. Recently […]
Coinciding with the arrival of this year’s first hot weather, the grass seed fields are in bloom. The pollen is nigh overwhelming. It’s as if paradise, suddenly aware of herself, has put on too much perfume. She goes to her first dance, where she meets the boy of her dreams. And he’s wearing too much cologne. Everyone in the school cafeteria is sneezing. The band plays on. Later, at home, […]
William Michaelian 