Victim and Hero
Grateful upon waking. Grateful at rest. Grateful with each step and each breath. Without gratitude, what would I be? I would be both victim and hero — an egotistical survivor of my own self-chosen, self-made suffering. . [ 1373 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Gratitude’
When a Bird Sings
Yesterday morning while I was watching the birds finding things to eat on the frosty ground, I was struck again at how crippled by convenience I am, in the sense that, for much of the year, I am cut off from the activity of getting food. The time spent in direct contact with the earth, the energy used, and the attention and involvement required in an endeavor that yields varying […]
Borne by the Bier
Sweet sleep, for we might say sleep is that from which we arise, to emerge at birth and find ourselves astonished by the light; and then, at the appointed time, that to which we return, ripe and ready for the next miracle. Sweet, for how could it not be? — as sweet as the sleep of the child one was, is, and will become — sweet as the dew on […]
Canvas 1,130 — Two Children Playing
January 10, 1976. Forty-six years.Back then, my father’s mother referred to us as “two children playing.”She was seventy-five at the time. She’s still right. January 10, 2022 Canvas 1,130 January 10, 2018 . [ 1346 ]
The Earth Says Hello
There were high winds and heavy rain throughout the night. Now that it’s light, I see several more fir branches are down. Most are about six to eight feet in length; the longest, with its thick end leaning against the fig tree, is about twelve feet, and two inches in diameter. And so nature’s cleanup of last year’s ice storm continues. Later I’ll go out and have a look at […]
We Might Say
Shall we examine our illnesses, and give them truer, more meaningful names, such as The North Wind, The Reminder, and The Teacher? Then we might say, I am visited by The North Wind, or, I am thankful for The Reminder. We might say, I learned great things from The Teacher. I have The Mystery. I do not fear The End. . [ 1329 ]
O Holy Night
the sweet call to rest / the bare lilac / the mossy wall / the cedar chest December 23, 2021 . O Holy Night I do love the short days, the early closing in of the dark, the long nights beginning in the afternoon, the afternoons even earlier on the rooftops through the firs. There is so much light in everything everywhere I turn, in objects, faces, and books, the […]
Whispers
It took me sixty-five years to discover the joy of working barefoot in the cold winter-wet yard. All those years in socks and shoes, trying to keep warm — what next will I unlearn? December 15, 2021. Afternoon. . Whispers The old man, they say, has lost his mind. But we do not lose what we give. And it is cold where they wait to be known. It is cold […]
Saved by the Storm
I do not come / I do not go / I do not wait / I do not remain / yet here I am / on my knees again December 12, 2021 . [ 1317 ]
Air Apparent
Rain and high winds, the house thumped by fir branches, pelted with cones — a welcome cleansing. Let me not live with old thoughts on my lips, tired opinions, dull complaints, a negative outlook. Let me speak kindly or say nothing at all. December 11, 2021 . [ 1316 ]
William Michaelian 