What I Know of a Creek

Amazon distance

This morning, like most mornings, I rode my bike to work along a creek, my pockets stuffed with peanuts.I've been feeding the crows, you see.  My best friend does this, and taught me.  He holds his hand in front of his face before tossing unsalted whole-shell peanuts where the corvids will see them.  It'd been a practice I'd long intended to pick up, but I've only started it recently, and only after finding the corpse of a dead crow on one of my rides home from work.The name of the one go … [Read more...]

The language of birds

Three house finches at a bird feeder

I'd love to be camping right now, somewhere nice and inaccessible, but the fact is I must be on a computer, earning my paycheck. I am fortunate however in that I can work from the comfort of a screened-in back porch with a lake view.  It also has a view of my bird feeder.  I am a big fan of finding the sacred wherever you are, and I was on a futon with a laptop, grading.  If I must sit still for a long period of time, and look up every time a movement catches my eye an … [Read more...]

Feeling Out of Place

Rainbow Over Glasgow

Last week I started to write a post, and then I abandoned it. It didn't feel right. I couldn't say what I wanted to say about my ambivalent relationship with technology, especially where it intersects with issues of Spirit. I dropped the post, half written and never completed it, thinking that I was only stuck because of the topic that I'd decided to write about. Today, after hours of hemming and hawing about what to write today, I realize that I'm stuck for a far deeper reason. It's hard to … [Read more...]

The Dance of Desire and Delight

It is strange to be a writer, particularly in the midst of life.Those of you reading this who also write may understand, perhaps agree or disagree, but it seems to me there exists an often difficult and fascinating conflict between the voice of narration and the body of experience.I am writing this in a notebook.  The pages of compressed wood-pulp glare garishly white at my return glance as I attempt to interrupt its pristine nothingness, its blank receptivity, with ink scrawls of black. … [Read more...]

With a hey and a ho and a hey nonny no

Pink flowered wood sorrel

This is going to be uncharacteristically brief as we have reached that important seasonal milestone, the end of the semester.  I teach college English, among my other unfortunate vices.  So here's a recording of pioneering jazz singer Maxine Sullivan's version of "It Was a Lover and His Lass" from Twelfth Night, because Shakespeare.  You're welcome.It's going to be Beltane any minute now, and while my friends in more northern climes are grumping about when is spring going to get here, an … [Read more...]

Signs of Beltane Approaching

blackthorn

The land is finally waking, here in the cold north (aka Scotland). Ostara is the balance of day and night, as elsewhere, but the land does not really wake until Beltane -- also known as Beltaine, or Bealtuinn.Spring and summer come upon us all of a piece, here. Here and now, the oyster catchers nest, the swallows arrive, the curlews warble, yet the sycamore is still bare-limbed. Daffodils and celandines and coltsfoot and wood anemones all bloom together.The blossoming … [Read more...]

Dionysos in a Paving Stone, Brighid in the Broken Glass

pic1

I stood on the corner of the street, waiting for a bus to take me from Seattle and saw a friend.  It's been awhile since I'd seen them*, and I'd never been where I was about to go, so they were a welcome sight.  After a brief embrace and a few words, we'd realized we were going to the same place, taking almost the same route.They'd never been either.  Both of our first times."Were you at Mayday last year?"They nodded.  "Yeah--last year was my political Beltaine, this year's my spi … [Read more...]


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