A Tragic End
The song in his heart was stuck in his throat. And the attending doctor said to himself, I must be sure not to die this way. . [ 1672 ]
The song in his heart was stuck in his throat. And the attending doctor said to himself, I must be sure not to die this way. . [ 1672 ]
In me is a little something of everyone who ever lived. Deep in the code, I’ve been through it all. The universe, too, is in my flesh, blood, and bones. That means I’m part of the greatest, most efficient recycling project ever known. As such, I’ve learned not to cling to the idea of being who I am, or who others think I am, or to worry about what will […]
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 […]
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 […]
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 ]
Ask the body — Is there a difference between the fear of pain, the fear of rejection, the fear of poverty, the fear of loss, the fear of death? . [ 1597 ]
If ever I were to strike out what I don’t understand, What would stop me from striking out more each day, Until at last I’ve stricken out everything, Except my own poor ignorance? . [ 1574 ]
The bees in the sunflowers don’t mind us near. And why would we curse or bother them? There’s enough anger and fear in the world. We ask instead: what else might we offer them? And their reply is sweet: if not peace now, when? . [ 1557 ]
To the bird that let go of me high above a mountain lake, my deepest thanks . [ 1547 ]
The movement of birds, leaves, and insects; the changing patterns of light and shade; clouds; a walker passing by; all accompanied by subtle changes in humidity and temperature — these are the things we miss when we stay indoors and focus for too long on books and screens. Not only do we miss them, we miss the naturally beneficial medicine of our physical engagement and response to random stimuli, our […]