life

A Blessing for Wildness

       May spotty skies of dog fur and loving eyes lap you with the wet kisses of clouds overhanging unconditionally all you ever felt or believed
       May you break into the abyss of laughter and shout for joy as the Eden of allowing rewilds you from edges hardened by too much time in houses and buildings
       May you grow green canopies for hair, feeling the wafted chemical messages of trees in the branching tentacles of your interbeing brain and heart
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Play

A few nights ago I saw the documentary “Birth of the Cool” about the life-and-music (inseparable to him) of Miles Davis.

At one point in the film, Miles says to his bandmates as they explore new musical forms: “Don’t play what you know – play what you don’t know.”

This phrase crystallized something for me – moments where I realized I don’t really know anything – that any conceptual form of knowing is itself a kind of movie overlaid on the surface of the unknown, projections dancing in a life-giving darkness. (more…)

Reflections on Miles Davis

I think of his eyes – dark pools so sensitive, radiant with droplets of feeling-light, the depth of them in tremulous water, how they seem to ripple inwards as I look into them, as if my heart itself is a ripple in that wide river of receiving, reflecting the sky of me so I can see my vast self for the first time, reflecting things I never saw in my own sky – eyes that hold that note steady, that one note that blows through my heart, all the way through. (more…)

Fibonacci Sings

Walking across the kitchen to turn off a light
The hot water of a shower, wet hair, fingertips and the flow of motion
Not really one thing then another, not even a moment to be found
Just flow
And then no flow to be found, but moments, things again, seemingly
Shifting like this, until it just opens –

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dimensions of you

you arc around the edges of what they say
rainbow shimmered alive by the molecules of water and air
you resonate with your voice
startling the sky, moving tides with the moon of your laughter
you swim in the wide ocean of no-dividing-lines
redefining the real with waves from your spiraling-insistent imagination (more…)

The Soft Galaxy (Eulogy for a Chicken)

I’m still thinking of what was happening in Roadrunner’s mind the other day, standing five feet from the back door to the house, on a stoop two steps above the ground, facing the door as if wanting to come in. Every time I think of it, I feel sad – sadder than someone raised in a culture of scientific materialism blended with Catholic ideas about the specialness of humans is really supposed to feel about a chicken.

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Stillness Rises

Lately – amid the unfolding catastrophes of climate change, white supremacy, potential nuclear war and physical, emotional, psychological and institutionalized violence of many kinds – I’ve been spending hours of what free time I have lying down in a grassy field among pine cones and dry brown needles from last Fall, amid the deep and imperfectly-perfect harmonies of Highland Park, watching clouds drift, picking seeds from the open cones, soaking in sun and doing as much nothing as I possibly can.

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Memory’s Curve

Sitting outside the ice cream place in a small New England college town you ate strawberry ice cream and remembered the man everyone said was insane – the one you met before you ever met your father – who took you to get your first bowl as a child in another country and another world – and your tears openly shined.

I dropped for the moment any pretense of trying to interject evidence-based interventions into our time together (though I value the crystallized care they can be the expression of), and said what seemed obvious to us both:  “Maybe he wanted to send you a message today.” To which you replied, “Maybe he did.”

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Spark

It was strange to walk out of all that stone and wool, the many kinds of cloth and reverberating footfalls, Latin chants and icicles dripping, that deep silent well in which people rarely spoke (unless to read in Latin about the nature of God’s oneness or the strict rules of their order) and even more rarely looked at each other, and then, unexpectedly, to behold the carnival.

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