As sure is pure is sour honey. As fine as grape is wine. As must is dust is dust as fine. As ash as flash is light to pass. As red as rose and ink is pose. As rain above is love below. As if as all one needs to know. As mine and yours as time. . [ 1753 ]
The less I think, the better I feel — physically, mentally, every which way. Once I recognized the connection between what goes on in my head and my general well being, the thinking process grew quiet, and the intervals between thoughts became greater. Sometimes, I hardly think at all, and wouldn’t notice it, except that when I finally do think, it’s like waking from a vivid dream. I don’t mean […]
As the mind and body are connected by the breath, all three are connected to the stars, because in that awareness, everything is present, everything is here. Or, not the stars, if they seem too far — a loved one, a pet, the trees, the flowers. . [ 1715 ]
Negativity is a poison as dangerous and addictive as any drug. It darkens our outlook and skews our view of the world. Given time, it ruins our health, our digestion, our facial expression, our posture, and our body language, and has a profound affect on those around us. Negativity breeds more negativity. It chases away positive people and attracts others who are negative. There’s no such thing as a positive […]
Deep in our ancient programming, we know how to be healthy and whole. But we believe in so much nonsense that we undermine ourselves, and are taken in by the ones sending the bill. Life wants us to be well — not just in mind and body, but in a universal way that intimately involves everything seen and unseen, every grain of sand, every drop of rain, every molecule and […]
Today is not a day for writing. Early this morning, I ran to the fig tree and back. Later, we took a long walk by the river, where, high in two leafless cottonwood trees just starting to bud, we saw big, rugged osprey nests. After lunch, I raked the mossy front sidewalk, careful not to dislodge the shepherd’s purse that has sprouted there. Then we walked through the neighborhood, talking […]
Standing between the hot, vibrating fender and the seat, there was just room enough for me to ride beside my father on the tractor. At three miles an hour, we went up and down the vineyard rows, transported by the mellow, acoustic hum of the gas engine as dozens of blackbirds crowded behind us to hunt for worms and bugs in the newly turned soil. This, too, was paradise. There […]
If it’s important to remember our childhood darkness, trauma, or pain, then it’s even more important to remember our joy, because joy is our natural state, the original spirit and foundation of our very existence. If we cling to our pain, that pain becomes our identity. If our pain seems a greater, more powerful force than joy, then we need to work harder at remembering our own joy, however small […]
The earliest joys, at least those that can be remembered, are most certainly tied to the soil, beginning with its warmth and smell, its texture, and its dense, composite makeup, which changes with every handful. I was drawn to it, as every child is who is fortunate to live where it has not all been ravaged and paved over, and I sought, and returned, its intimate contact. I can say […]
Was I awake, or asleep? Was I there, or somewhere else? Banish the word or and the answer is clear: there need be no answer. That, in its own simple, strange way, is the story of my life. My grandfather, emerging from the sycamore shade on the south end of his house, barefoot and carrying a shotgun in one hand and the bloody remains of a robin in the other, […]
William Michaelian 