Is there anything better for children than being outside, off of the pavement, and away from all forms of electronics? Is there anything better for adults? Is there anything better than dirty hands and dirty feet that have been made that way by several hours of willing contact with the soil? Is there anything better than absorbing the sights, sounds, and scents in the mountains, at the beach, or beside […]
Ninety-seven percent humidity, the stars dim through the smoky, post-apocalyptic haze. The body says wait. . I ran this morning two hours later than usual, after eating, instead of before. Much to my surprise, the world didn’t end. Then again, it might already have ended, and my run might have been a dream. Dreaming after the world ends — yes, maybe that’s what living is really about. Oats, spelt, barley, […]
Fall. The honey thickens. Visited the beach at Neskowin. Sunny, a light breeze from the north, temperature around sixty degrees. No sand fleas. The tide was coming in, but it wasn’t so high that we couldn’t see that since our barefoot stroll there two years ago, the ghost forest has been mostly covered with sand. Only the top of one of the heavily barnacled stumps was visible. The western-most part […]
To witness a miracle, spend a day, a few hours, or even a few minutes listening to your body. Be still. Don’t sit in judgment. There’s no need for words. Notice where it hurts. Notice where it doesn’t. Notice your heartbeat, and the rise and fall of your breath. Notice your digestion. And along with this noticing, notice too how everything is happening of its own accord. The body is […]
The bright light is Jupiter. Low in the sky — the ocean is there. Washed ashore, the brine-bare fir. Asphalt and surf, the shadows concur. Breath dispersed — warm where we are, cold where we were. . [ 1576 ]
Extreme heat. Wildfires. Smoke. Clouds. Lightning strikes. Add one vast ocean. Mix thoroughly until the consistency of love. Hold breath. Allow to rise. Makes one infinite serving. July 31, 2022 . [ 1506 ]
If, in the end, what we have written or told is only a story, That, too, is well, because it is the very same thing that life has done. And even given our last word, the story goes on. See us in the Index, under Ocean, Under Flight, under Stone. . [ 1294 ]
William Michaelian 