I couldn’t keep the damn glasses clean. Kept wiping them and curs- ing them. And my left ear was get- ting worse. Those across the room were shouting secrets behind a water- fall. But I wasn’t ready. Kept wiping the damn glasses. Kept trying to make sense of things I couldn’t hear. I didn’t feel stubborn. And I want so very much to see and hear. Then after a long un- folding, the cocoon my soul was eating through gave… Read more

How this ache stops me, old teacher that it is. Often on the way home when the wiper won’t clear it away. Or after a call with a friend who longs for something he can’t quite name. After utter companionship, not knowing what to say, when everyone has gone to bed, and the moon has stopped being shy, I put my tongue on the table like a paper weight and walk wordless through the night. The place where beauty meets… Read more

It is raining lightly and the sheep are standing still in the wet field, stopped by beads of water from the sky on their ears, their eyes, their mouths. They look like statues breaking their trance. Alive for the first time, they wonder, what is this magical place where the very air kisses you everywhere. Falling in love with the world is like this. Read more

The lost bird remembers how to sing as it splashes in a puddle and forgets how to fly. This was the teacher’s answer to his student’s complaints about living on earth. Read more

They say we began before we could speak, that whether running from some woolly mammoth or squinting to see into the sun, we stood erect and began to search. They say this was a million years ago. Some- where in Africa, as the long wind with a thousand scents swept through the high grass. What they don’t say is that it’s all been one nameless soul using many lives in one endless search. It’s been forty thou- sand generations, skin… Read more

My neighbor and I wave to each other through the trees; though we don’t even know each other’s name. After a snowstorm, we worm our way out. I admit it’s comforting to see another in the open, leaning on his shovel, his breath clouding as he looks again to the sky. There’s something primal in knowing that we each have a fire we huddle around. I love clearing the path to our door and leaving the light on. Of course,… Read more

As the wind makes a different song through the same tree as its branches break, God makes finer and finer music through the wearing down of our will. Read more

Transcending down into the ground of things is akin to sweeping the leaves that cover a path. There will always be more leaves. And the heart of the journey, the heart of our own awakening, is to discover for ourselves that the leaves are not the ground, and that sweeping them aside will reveal a path, and finally, that to fully live, we must take the path and continually sweep it. Read more

While there is much to do we are not here to do. Under the want to problem-solve is the need to being-solve. Often, with full being the problem goes away. The seed being-solves its darkness by blossoming. The heart being-solves its loneliness by loving what it meets. The tea being-solves the water by becoming tea. Read more

Everything is lighted. In the beginning, this is clear. In nature, we tip our face to the sun and our small light is renewed by the timeless light. Often, as we enter the realm of others, our small light serves as a lantern softening and illuminating everyone we look at; especially the dark ones who are blocked from their own light. Of course, we take turns being blocked and dark or open and lighted. This is the power of kindness,… Read more

Follow Us!



Browse Our Archives