Instead of No
Instead of No, say Oh? You’ll feel better, and you’ll be that much closer to Yes. . [ 1625 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Peace’
How Can We Know?
The word silence isn’t silence, just as love and peace aren’t love and peace. Writing them and saying them is a little like hoping the train will come. The train might arrive. It might not. No hope can bind it. What is silence? What are love and peace? How can we know, unless we surrender ourselves? How can we know, unless we are the living embodiment of each? . [ […]
The Cure
Leave the leaves where they fall — yes, leave the leaves, ’til they’re not leaves at all. . [ 1616 ]
Gardener’s Tune
shovel deep / shovel strong / I love your forever song . [ 1584 ]
Still Time
Sometimes, sitting in the warm fall sun, I feel I’m waiting for my wings to dry. . [ 1568 ]
Sunflower Bees
The bees in the sunflowers don’t mind us near. And why would we curse or bother them? There’s enough anger and fear in the world. We ask instead: what else might we offer them? And their reply is sweet: if not peace now, when? . [ 1557 ]
Such a Gift
Enchantment. A very slow run with the moon and stars and clouds. Haste not, want not. . [ 1527 ]
From Jade to Fern
Star detail. Northbound clouds, lit by a sun an hour from rising. Clover detail. Leaves cool, and only slightly damp. Spider detail. A web from jade to fern. Breath detail. The boundless, timeless happening of oneself. Zen detail. Unique, like everything and everyone else. The same, in a different way. Inseparable as peace and the gentle eyes of a cow, as joy and the sound of her bell. July 30, […]
Peace, Death, and Other Tales
Cloudy, calm, sixty-one degrees. Twice during this morning’s run, I was met with the scent of star jasmine, and once with that of a cigarette. Then someone, perhaps unable to bear the dark and the quiet, or the idea of facing another day of meaningless, underpaid drudgery, set off a loud firework somewhere to the east. The silence, though, didn’t mind; it held the noise close until it died in […]
Flower Child
This year on Mother’s Day, our eldest son arrived with a large hanging flower basket he bought from someone who’d set up a display on Highway 99E a little north of the town of Corvallis. He’d been hiking and running in the woods near there and was on his way home when the display caught his eye. The man had stuffed just about every plant imaginable into his baskets — […]
William Michaelian 