And now, what if, perhaps, courage is best expressed by turning off our computers? December 9, 2021 . I Set Sail Not Because I set sail not because it is a kind sea, or an angry sea, or a beguiling sea, or a wise sea, or a blind sea, or a lonely sea. For the sea is none of those things; and the sea is all of those things. Know, […]
Every breath is a call to the joy of consciousness. If I’m afraid of that consciousness coming to an end, or try to think of ways I can hold onto it forever, the joy immediately slips away. Joy then becomes just one more word in a numbing, distracting intellectual exercise in which I’m both martyr and hero. When that happens, the moment simply goes on without me. It doesn’t matter […]
The mild rainy weather has given rise to a new generation of mold, creating a scented atmosphere as complex and alluring as a newly opened grave. November 15, 2021 . November The ear fills with sky-sounds, the eye with cloud-motion and leaf-fall. Distances are not what we think them at all, but blessings ripe and uncountable. The glad-spent remains of the summer garden are brought to the pile. Manure is […]
One of the blessings of memory is the opportunity it gives us to go back in our minds and apologize to those we have thoughtlessly made suffer, and promise them such a thing will never happen again. And though at first it may seem contradictory, the blessing is especially great when the person we are addressing has already passed on. When the wrong is acknowledged and the apology and pledge […]
When I was born, I was given a genocide. I was also given a dear dead uncle who had killed, and been killed, in war. I was given simplicity, poverty, hunger, and joy. I was given anger and disappointment. I was given pride and competition. I was given physical and psychological pain. I was given fear. I was given honesty. I was given laughter. I was given play. I grew […]
I don’t remember the year. But I was quite small. The gift was a word. I’m unwrapping it still. Recently Banned Literature, December 25, 2013 . [ 1270 ]
There is a seam in my glass mug, but no hem and no zipper. What holds the two edges together? What keeps the neck from raveling? The mug is wearing a glistening pendant with transparent chain: A bead of moisture suspended, a sweet drop of rain. Her skin is the color of coffee: trembling, scented, reflective. There is conversation: memory: faded print, falling away. October 25, 2021 . [ 1268 […]
If I had no knowledge of clocks and calendars, how old would I be? If there were no one to tell me, would I be any age at all? But I do know. And since I do, I ask myself how this knowledge has shaped me. Has it limited my understanding? Has it expanded it? Has it done neither, or both? Moreover, I did not seek this knowledge. Like so […]
Perhaps the oldest language is the one spoken by the body to its conscious inhabitant. And all that is needed to understand it, is a willingness to listen. To habitually ignore or purposefully misconstrue what the body says causes an unnecessary battle that cannot be won. The body speaks only the truth, and cannot be fooled. Its memory, moreover, is perfect. And yet, at every turn, its kindness is revealed. […]
I try to learn something every day. The subjects vary from the natural environment, to diet, exercise, and health from ancient and modern perspectives, to human behavior and the mechanics of habit and addiction, to sleep, dreams, and memory, and to other things seemingly related or unrelated that suggest themselves along the way, and which seem to shed light on this existence. That this does little to allay my general […]
William Michaelian 