The Rambler, Numb. 12. Saturday, April 28, 1750. The entire column given over to a touching letter signed “Zosima,” detailing the ill treatment received by the writer, a thoughtful, well-to-do woman fallen on hard times, when seeking work as a maid. The letter ends with thanks to an unnamed gentle woman who treated her with kindness and generosity, though she no longer had a position to fill. . From Walt […]
I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers. — Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam. . Ideally we will hold no opinion, and therefore have none to defend. For what’s an opinion but one more way of living in, and clinging to, the past? We may believe nothing has changed since we arrived at the […]
Fifty-eight degrees. A light, steady rain. Smoke. A four o’clock run. I don’t care to be in a room full of noisy people. A room full of quiet people, I can appreciate and enjoy. People are at their best when they’re quiet. I can move about among them as I move about among rocks and trees, loving them softly, without needing, seeking, or expecting love in return. But I love […]
Yesterday we saw a solitary hiker with thin, long, gray hair, leaning with his right palm against the trunk of a mossy old maple, and the maple pushing back, ever so gently, to the quiet music of the stream below. Now, you and I both know, how he was and wasn’t there, and how he is and always will be; that if by gracious chance we pass that way again, […]
one tree more or less one bird one fish one elephant one insect one tiger one blue whale one you . [ 1831 ]
Each time they met, they bowed to one another and uttered not a word. They were old by then. When one of them died, they went on bowing just the same. And somehow when the other died, their bowing remained. Cane in hand, I thought, I’ve known men who were just like trees. . [ 1794 ]
Here are the flowers. Where are the bees? Here are the trees. Where are the leaves? Here are the people. Smoke on the breeze. . [ 1783 ]
Moss on the ground, moss on the shrubs, moss on the trees. Moss on the sidewalks, moss in the street. I dare not stop. I dare not sleep. Moss on my feet. . [ 1742 ]
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 […]
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 ]
William Michaelian 