This week a rotten tree fell hard in the forest. Many thousands were there to witness its undoing, but no one heard the crash. Not even the tree realized it had fallen.
My preferred question for people I have just met is “What is most important to you right now?” This question turns our conversation to something you actually are interested in.
The Latin word pax, most often translated as “peace,” lies at the etymological root of both “pay” and “pacify.” How do we fit the Pacific Ocean into this puzzle?
Faith has always been a troubling concept for me, something I intuitively avoid. Perhaps my uneasiness stems from the term’s multiple meanings and uses.
Tomorrow the equinox arrives. Tomorrow ends longer days as we pass through a moment of balance between light and dark.
Some days are too long, but most not long enough. My obligations and ambitions pull me in too many directions, and before I know it the day is nearly gone.
The detourist welcomes unanticipated changes in course, regards the derailment of one’s intentions and ambitions as a normal and agreeable opportunity.
Our complex brains have developed ambitions far beyond our needs and purposes. We race around not even noticing hummingbirds, butterflies, or storm clouds on the far horizon.
Can we be passionate about whatever circumstances life serves up to us? What bliss might we discover wherever we are, whatever we are doing, whoever we are with?
We have much to be angry about, and good reason to be sad. But neither sadness nor anger alone have much effect for lasting change in the world.
Mountains of data about climate change are not enough to rouse people from complacency. We need more imaginative, creative ways of addressing the human impact on the global environment.
Artist Donald Judd concluded, “Art is everything at once.” I would expand on his insight. We are all artists all the time, making the greatest works of art imaginable in our very being.