To witness a miracle, spend a day, a few hours, or even a few minutes listening to your body. Be still. Don’t sit in judgment. There’s no need for words. Notice where it hurts. Notice where it doesn’t. Notice your heartbeat, and the rise and fall of your breath. Notice your digestion. And along with this noticing, notice too how everything is happening of its own accord. The body is […]
Thirty-seven degrees. There was snow yesterday evening in hilly areas a few miles south, and hail here. Maybe this is why the robins haven’t returned to their unfinished nest in the rhododendron. A few smaller birds, though, have stopped to investigate. Otherwise, the weather continues to be rainy with cool daytime temperatures and brief intervals of sun. Our garden space is still muddy, and the soil hasn’t warmed enough to […]
Water is rushing over the road again, coursing through an old channel of the river that’s cleansing Goose Lake from top to bottom, and carrying debris from Mission Lake into the Willamette. Muddy in places, the path through the area is in generally good condition. Dandelions and daisies are abundant, and line the roadsides leading into the park. The immense black walnut is beginning to bud. There are enough daisies […]
It’s time to cut the grass away from the dandelions so the flowers will have more space to breathe and grow. I want them to spread. I want to be a dandelion man, and to bloom like them, a bright, sunny yellow, and for this place where I live to be a bee sanctuary, with more flowers than anyone can dream or count, and a little sign by the street […]
Now, with so much joy in one dandelion, imagine the collective power of every blade of grass, every tree, every drop of rain, and the sky full of stars. Then imagine the joy in thee and me. To say it another way, the only thing that can come between ourselves and the universe, and everything near and beyond, is the hardened assumption that we are superior or inferior, right or […]
A few nights ago, after we’d been on our walk by the river, I had a strange little dream. A few feet away, in a small grassy area greening its way into spring, there was a blue-gray owl looking up at me with a friendly, cheerful expression. It had very large bright-green eyes. Though it was obviously an adult, it was smaller than any owl I’ve seen. When I moved […]
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 ]
Leaves crisp where they’ve fallen, grass growing through. Winter’s a love story. We are too. . [ 1643 ]
William Michaelian 