Nigh on seven years, and the mossy fern garden is still there, crowded with natives that can be found all over our area; we see them when we’re hiking at Silver Falls, where, season upon season, they live and die for each other in a freedom most of us are afraid to imagine for ourselves. There is not one inch of this earth, if left free of our meddling, that […]
I raised the toilet lid this morning and found a spider treading water. Apparently it had just fallen in. I rolled up a small piece of paper, which it quickly climbed onto, took it outside, and let it climb off onto our front step. It wasn’t too large — maybe half an inch across, including its legs. It probably rode into the house on my hair, as I run into […]
I wonder about purpose. Does the universe have a purpose? Does the sun? Do I? Or are we simply here, and here simply, spinning, gently, of this music, and burning bright? Isn’t this enough? Must I impose myself on this miracle and whittle it down to my size? Must I choose one thing or another and say, This is why I am here? Must I be that important? Can’t I […]
With the morning light streaming in through the front window, it strikes me that if I can recognize and let go of even one dull-minded, habitual response a day, I’ll eventually become so vital and attentive that if anyone notices, they won’t know what they’re noticing, and yet they’ll be glad. It will be a revolution, quiet, flagless, and bloodless, with no leaders or followers, and nothing to cling to […]
It would be wrong to characterize my childhood as anything but enchanted. To do so may seem like a combination of denial and choice, but my memory of those days is clear enough that I still feel it’s true. And while I don’t remember what happened between each individual memory, I clearly recall the daily rhythm and atmosphere, my awareness of the passing seasons, flowers blooming around the house, the […]
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 ]
When the fig leaves fell, they were bright and deep beneath the tree. Now their color has seeped into the ground, and the grass is growing up through me. It’s a fine time. A rhyme time. A time like every other time I see. No time. Flow time. Rain time. Snow time. Free. . [ 1656 ]
Can I be so free of belief that I’m surprised by the sunrise? Or, should I say, by the smile in your eyes? . [ 1653 ]
this life’s a child’s balloon / you never know / when she’ll let go . [ 1619 ]
William Michaelian 