For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.
— Herman Hesse from Bäume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte
We’re all — trees, humans, insects, birds, bacteria — pluralities. Life is embodied network. These living networks are not places of omnibenevolent Oneness. Instead, they are where ecological and evolutionary tensions between cooperation and conflict are negotiated and resolved. These struggles often result not in the evolution of stronger, more disconnected selves but in the dissolution of the self into relationship. Continue reading “Our Ethic Must Therefore Be One Of Belonging (Earth Day) …”
May you be blessed in the holy names of those
Who, without you knowing it,
Help to carry and lighten your pain.
May memory bless and protect you
With the hard-earned light of past travail;
To remind you that you have survived before
And though the darkness now is deep,
You will soon see approaching light. Continue reading “Blessing for Paris …”
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well …
— Saint Julian of Norwich from Revelations of Divine Love
Maybe our world will grow kinder eventually.
Maybe the desire to make something beautiful
is the piece of God that is inside each of us.
Now all four horses have come closer,
are bending their faces toward me
as if they have secrets to tell.
I don’t expect them to speak, and they don’t.
If being so beautiful isn’t enough, what
could they possibly say? Continue reading “Maybe The Desire To Make Something Beautiful Is The Piece Of God That Is Inside Each Of Us …”
What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.
— Virginia Woolf from To the Lighthouse
The Patience Of Ordinary Things
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be. Continue reading “Little Daily Miracles …”
Mary Oliver (1935-2019) was an American poet who won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Her poetry often explored nature and the spiritual world. She died on Thursday, January 17, 2019 at her home in Florida.
We celebrate her life with deep gratitude for the remarkable human being she was and how she used words to witness, awaken and heal the world. A bight light is gone from our sky but her poetry and wisdom remain as a gift to humanity for generations to come. Rest in beauty and peace …
Continue reading “In Memoriam: Mary Oliver …”
“Make of yourself a light,”
said the Buddha,
before he died.
I think of this every morning
as the east begins
to tear off its many clouds
of darkness, to send up the first
signal — a white fan
streaked with pink and violet,
even green. Continue reading “Make Of Yourself A Light …”
Love is what carries you, for it is always there,
even in the dark, or most in the dark, but
shining out at times like gold stitches in a
piece of embroidery.
— Wendell Berry from Hannah Coulter
Notes On Hope
The news of late has captured the fever dream of modern life: everything exploding, burning, being shot, or crashing to the ground all around us, while growing older has provided me with a measure of perspective and equilibrium, and a lovely, long-term romance. Towns and cities, ice fields, democracy, people—all disappear, while we rejoice and thrive in the spring and the sweetness of old friendships. And families are tricky. There is so much going on that flattens us, that is huge, scary, or simply appalling. We’re doomed, stunned, exhausted, and overcaffeinated. Continue reading “Love Is Why We Have Hope …”