In finding a way to live on earth more prosperously, we have lost our ability to live with earth more harmoniously. We are desperate for new geographies of hope.
Photo essay: a return to the Bighorn mountains in Wyoming for an autumn pilgrimage to the Medicine Wheel and a turning of seasons.
Religious elements of national parks may not be obvious, but visitors’ experiences rely to some extent on traditions of religious travel and religio-aesthetic interpretations.
Wilderness is a fantasy of human desires born of a false binary of wild nature without people. But imagining wilderness might deliver us to a new geography of hope.
Springfield, Illinois, is a Lincoln-haunted town, and much of the old downtown has a Lincoln association of some sort or another. But more than Lincoln has happened there.
A poem written for a yoga class relates the experience of meditating on a raisin and the transformative potential in contemplating raisinness.
At many tourist sites, authenticity reigns as the holy grail of the religious quest, a sacred commodity positioned to seduce touristic desires.
A Nez Perce delegation arrived in St. Louis in 1831, but Protestants and Catholics tell very different stories about them.
Even well-meaning opinions by voices presuming to be immune from the racist elements of their whiteness cannot avoid the histories embedded in their language, attitudes, and perspectives.
The moon rises over the forested horizon as we witness its appearance from the lake shore. How many moonrises have we seen across these waters?
The Hoh Rain Forest waits as a patient guide, a moss-embroidered forest of wisdom, lined with ferns and storied over with trees older than memory.
Saddleback Mountain stands silent, motionless, stoic above frantic, superficial California as a reminder that some remnant of wildness persists beyond the freeways and strip malls.