Age? Health? Good fortune? Whatever the reason, I’ve come to see life this way: there’s no greater wealth than this moment, this breath, and this body. In that light, there can be only one goal, one challenge, one mission worth pursuing: to make what remains of it an act of giving, while wishing absolutely nothing for myself. Call it impossible. Call it a prayer. And though I may forget, or […]
This moment is the perfect place to live and die and rest. It’s the perfect place for joy. Tell me: have you ever been anywhere else? Have you seen this moment end, or traveled beyond its edge? Tell me: where else would we have met? . [ 1402 ]
A playful squirrel chases juncos, just to see them hop and scatter. A bright-red robin flashes by, makes the squirrel jump and run. A missile flies, a mother dies, a child cries — another day is done. . [ 1392 ]
If you’re sure you’ve arrived, don’t worry — you’ll soon be pushed off of the train. . [ 1380 ]
short poem, long poem soft low stop go then now my father’s last breath . [ 1376 ]
On the trail a few days ago, I saw a very large cottonwood leaf, a brittle survivor of winter. It struck me as a kind of landmark, something that would always be there, even in its eventual absence, and in mine, its brown face held together by distinct veins, waiting patiently for an ant to walk by. I’ve thought of it each day since. Next time, if there is a […]
Is the life I’m living — here, now, today — truly worth sharing? And when it ends, will it be worth passing on? If it is, let this be my last will and testament: Blessed with this experience, I bid you love your own. . [ 1366 ]
One thing to remember when you’re eating a seed, be it sunflower, flax, or chia, is that it holds the potential of perpetuating, even saving, its kind, as well as the species which are drawn by its beauty and which depend on it for sustenance. If you think of it only as flavorful, or as food for your health, you miss a vital dimension of living and eating. It is […]
I dreamed all night of the perfect sentence, And then awakened to a perfect, wordless dawn. The vessel creaks. A wind is coming on. . [ 1360 ]
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 […]
William Michaelian 