How many hours a day are my feet in contact with a natural, earthen surface? How many hours are my eyes, my body, my mind, exposed to artificial light? What must it have been like for our primitive ancestors, for whom food was the only real physical necessity, and shelter and fire the greatest of conveniences? O, the things we take for granted, the things we want, the things we […]
I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers. — Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam. . Ideally we will hold no opinion, and therefore have none to defend. For what’s an opinion but one more way of living in, and clinging to, the past? We may believe nothing has changed since we arrived at the […]
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 would describe most of my adult life as a great unlearning — a process moving gradually from prior conditioning and habit, through blindness, ignorance, intimation, denial, recognition, acceptance, and gratitude. Is the process done? Have I reached my destination? I don’t worry about it, or think in those terms. I’m simply amazed by my good fortune. I won’t even say that I know what I know. Do I? And […]
As hot as it is, as dirty the air — I could leave it there, except for the three hungry babies in our hanging basket, and the juncos, who have given us their trust again this year. . [ 1826 ]
I lived, I died. Some say that isn’t enough. But it is, I assure you, it is. . [ 1741 ]
In terms of gun violence, the city we live in is no different than others scattered across this land. Every time we leave the house, we know we can be shot and killed. It might be during a walk through the neighborhood, or when we’re buying groceries, or visiting a park, or on our way to or from seeing our children and grandchildren. It’s a strange bit of knowledge to […]
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 […]
William Michaelian 
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